


As The Moon Rises

by Talonticus



Series: Tale of the Nerevarine [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Adventure-ish, Dialogue Heavy, Drama, Espionage, F/F, Gen, Humor, Occasional violence, Pre-Seven Trials, Romance, Underworld intrigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 103,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonticus/pseuds/Talonticus
Summary: Before prophecies and heroes, there is the origin and an individual. Jollain has lived most of her life on the streets of the Imperial City, doing jobs for the Thieves Guild and whatever else she must to survive. When she gets an unexpected offer from agents of the Emperor, she hesitates only momentarily, understanding what sort of safety it can bring. Without realizing it, she has initiated events that has long been awaited.





	1. Storms ahead

**Author's Note:**

> **Main characters:** Jollain (Female Bosmer Nerevarine), Tayerise (Female Dunmer OC), Maak-Veh (Male Argonian OC)  
>  **Secondary characters:** Caius Cosades, Vaziri (Female Khajiit OC), Legate Asta Svalen (Female Nord OC), Habasi, Areval (Male Dunmer OC)
> 
> _Hello there! I'm Claire Talon, or Talonticus, and this is one of my all-too-many fics that I want to write and be done with before I PERISH_   
>  _I've wanted to write this one for quite a while, since I really enjoy the Morrowind setting and-_
> 
> _Well, perhaps it would be wise to first say that this is like, the third time I've attempted to write this story. The first one was posted way back in...2014, I think? After I felt like that one didn't reach the quality I wanted, I started a second fic in late 2015 (which was transferred to ao3 after I started writing here). However, the problem with the second one was the length. I wasn't really feeling the plot and I knew it would go on for ages. So, this time around, I've shortened it, removed some of the elements I felt were superfluous and reached a level I believe shall be enough._
> 
> _Basically, this the first out of three Morrowind fics, starring my Nerevarine, the female bosmer Jollain. The first fic that you're reading now will focus on establishing her position in Morrowind and among the Blades, the second will deal with the main questline of the vanilla game and the last part will involve elements from Tribunal, finish the overall story, plus potential plot holes I've left open. Hopefully, it will be enjoyable._
> 
> _If you like pictures and profiles, I've got one for Jollain on[one of my blogs](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/the-elder-scrolls-characters.html). You can also get sneak peeks of future main heroes there too._

Thick dark clouds travel across the sky, obscuring parts of the light from Masser and Secunda, the two moons of Nirn. The ground is dry right now, but the air is heavy with a certain sensation, making one get the feeling that rain might soon be on the way. In the far distance, the citizens of the Imperial City can hear thunder, even though they have yet to spot any lightning. Most people have chosen to stay indoors and even the Imperial Watch is trying to find shelter for the inevitable downpour.

Overall, it’s a pretty good time for one of her profession. There’s plenty of shadows, few people, and noises that will help cover her escape once she’s out; she’ll certainly need it once things go down. Stealing from the Mages Guild and their university is not one of the easiest things to do. Or at the very least, that’s what she has heard. She has never actually tried this sort of endeavor before, and she would've never believe she’d ever be given the chance to, either.

Things have been tough in their business lately, as the Watch has been doing its very best to counteract some previously ignored crimes. Has the Emperor raised their budget or something? Or maybe it’s that new Captain they’ve hired. She heard something about that, but can’t recall his name. Either way, it is why it’s such a lucky break for her to be able to prepare this little venture.  
With the help of some contacts, bribes and promises, she has been given a key to the Arcane University and directions for how to reach one of their underground artifact rooms. Now, that doesn’t automatically turn it into a task fit for a rookie; there’s still tons of people, creatures and security that one would need to bypass.  
The actual stealth part is something she has definitely got covered as she has been doing burglaries, pickpocketing and the like since she was a kid. It has not always been easy, but if you survive long enough – which few do, one might add – you’ve obviously attained a bit of skill along the way. Or so one would hope.

The toughest part of this break-in is the last one - getting into the artifact room itself. One of the people she spoke to about it had warned her that it has a magical security system, which will either trap, kill or simply incapacitate whomever steps inside without the proper clearance. And of course, the proper clearance is some sort of spell. She’s no mage however, so she has had to scour the black market for the next best thing - a scroll that can circumvent it. Sadly, as neither she nor her contacts knew the exact properties of the system protecting the room, she had to pay for the most useful scroll she could find. More expenses, meaning that this better work or she’ll be properly screwed. She’s not exactly loaded to begin with; quite the opposite, in fact.  
At least the enchanter promised her that there’s no way this won’t work. Then again, sounds like a sales pitch you hear in a lot of places.

The key to the first section of the university happens to work just fine and once she makes her way past sleeping guards and lecturers, down through the stairs to some of the lower levels, while constantly trying to remain as small and quiet as possible, she does eventually reach the door she was aiming for.  
She’s wearing a light set of black and dark blue clothing, as well as a brown cloak with a hood and a dagger in her belt. The guild doesn’t usually look favorably upon murder but, at times, one does need to defend against guards, angry owners or whatever else you can’t outrun.

She kneels down on the ground, watching the door, which looks like a simple wooden one. That’s just how they want it to appear, don’t they? Soon as you grab the handle – zap! Well, that’s what she was told anyway.  
Reaching down to one of the pouches around her belt, she grabs the scroll, puts it up against the surface of the door and unrolls it.  
“Hmm…right, this should be it”, she whispers to herself. The many intricate runes across the paper makes absolutely no sense to her. But it’s magic, right? It rarely complies with logic.  
“You better work, or someone’s gonna hand me a refund when I get back…”  
As instructed, she puts her hand in the very middle of a circle and pushes her palm against it.  
The runes suddenly erupt in a green light, making her wince and swiftly glance around the area. These damn enchanters, do they not know how to make things subtly?!

Luckily, it lasts only for a few seconds, and while she puts the item back into her belongings, she waits and listens. Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be any approaching footsteps, so things should be clear.  
Carefully, and somewhat uncertainly, she grabs the handle of the door and turns it. Her hand is just barely shaking, making her feel the tension. It’s now or never, after all.

She breaths out in relief when nothing happens, realizing that the spell did work, or that’s what it looks like.  
Slowly, not to make all too much noise, she opens the door and peers inside, seeing not much else than darkness. Well, some of the light from the torches in the area slides into the room, enough for her to spot contours of shelves, boxes and two large tables. Now comes the fun part.

Taking a few tentative steps inside, she makes sure to close the door before going any further. After it’s done, she turns around, heads into the room properly and grabs another item from her belt – a rolled up sack she has had prepared to store whatever loot she gets ahold of.  
She begins looking around for candles, and wonders if now is the time to use the torch she brought with her. Her excitement doesn’t last for long however. Suddenly, she sees how a light starts to shine on one of the walls, a magical red one. It’s joined by another just a meter to its side. Then another, and another. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds until she realizes that she’s surrounded.  
As they grow brighter, she tries to cover her eyes, but feels how she’s getting light-headed.

“…Dibella’s tits.”  
That enchanter is going to pay for this in some way.  


* * *

  
A fairly curvy female bosmer, with light brown skin, dressed in a tight black shirt with dark blue highlights and somewhat worn leggings, gets dragged across the stone floor by her arms. It’s merely her legs that hit the actual ground though, as the guards are holding her up with ease. She’s not that heavy, after all. Her long copper-colored hair is usually tied up in a low ponytail, but right now, it hangs loose and obscures some of her facial features.  
It’s not until they drag her into the cell assigned to her and drop her on the ground - not all too harshly, but not exactly gently either - that she gives off a groan and opens her brown eyes.  
“Ugh, not this again...”

She hears how cell door closes and while her head complains quite heavily when she tries to get up, she persists and does it anyway.  
Two guards - prison wardens of course - stand just outside her cell, but one of them soon walks off. The remaining man offers her a smug look.  
“Finally waking up, eh? And here I thought you told me last time, that you wouldn’t be back again.”

The bosmer rubs her head and doesn’t really find any physical wounds. Yeah, that spell must’ve done a number on her.  
“Yeah well, guess even I can make mistakes.”

“Yup, and now you’ll pay the price, like all criminals. Don’t think you’ll be out early this time. Those mages hold quite a grudge and they’ve got a lot of contacts higher up.”

“Oh, fantastic”, she remarks sarcastically.  
With some effort, she manages to move up to the bars as he leaves her. Doesn’t stop her from calling after him, of course.  
“Fabulous system you’ve got there, making the rich decide everything! I’m sure Stendarr would be proud!”  
He just laughs and keeps walking.  
“Asshole…”

Now that she’s actually up, she feels how sore her body is and therefore pushes against the bars, sliding down to the bottom and leans the back of her head to them. Everything was planned and ready for this heist. She even had a potential buyer or two lined up, who she knew would be interested. And now, she finds herself in this damn divines-forsaken place once more. What is it, the third time this year? The last two were at least minor offenses. Not gonna be that easy to get out this time.

“Tough night, huh?”  
The deep voice from behind makes her twitch and glance over her shoulder. Across the corridor, she sees a dunmer man in just some simple cloth pants. Only one eye is fully open as the other has quite a horrific scar across it. He’s bald, while both of his ears are pierced. Feels like the type of people she has met before, out by the Waterfront. Not as many dunmer out there, though.

“Yeah, tell me about it…”  
She leans her head back once more, running a hand through her hair.  
“Been here long?”  
The dunmer is sitting down by his cell door as well, but leans against the wall next to it instead. She can’t see anyone in the cell next to his, but then again, they might just be hiding further in. For the most part, it seems quiet.  
“A few days. My guess is that I’ll be sticking around for quite a while. I suppose we both will, huh?”

“Psh, yeah if those assholes get their way, that’ll probably be the case.”

He sighs and nods curtly.  
“I’m Jiub, by the way. What’d you do to those mages he mentioned?”

It doesn’t feel very polite being turned away like this, so she moves to mirror his position.  
“Jollain. And well…I guess it’ll be classified as burglary.”  
  
Jiub raises a hand to rub against his clean-shaven cheeks, something that was most likely done before he was thrown in here. They have the courtesy for that much at least.  
“You tried to break into that mage university? Well, that’s quite…brave, I guess.”

Jollain glances at him and flashes a bitter smile.  
“And very stupid too, right? Yeah, I’m well aware. Sometimes, you just gotta take that risk, though.”

“Hey, I’m not blaming ya. People do what they have to for their survival.”

She sighs and her shoulders slump somewhat.  
“True, although I doubt our dear imperial justice system will take that into account when they decide my punishment.”  
Lifting a hand, she runs it through her hair more thoroughly, trying to correct it. Dammit, seems she lost her hair-band. Guards must’ve knocked it off when they dragged her away.  
“So, what are you in for then?”

Jiub exhales deeply.  
“Eh, just some crap. I was set up and got taken in for murder, which I didn’t even commit.”

The bosmer arches one of her eyebrows. Well, she has never had to go through that at least.  
“Someone framed you? Wow, that’s rough. How did they even do that?”

He lifts a hand and scratches the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly.  
“Well…I guess, technically, I was there to kill the same guy. Someone else just got there ahead of me.”

That’s even more confusing. She emits an amused snort.  
“Wait, so you’re a killer that isn’t that good at his job? Fascinating.”

“Oh, yeah, just rub it in. Thanks a lot.”

She tilts her head and tries to really hold in a laugh.  
“Okay, I guess that wasn’t very nice. But I wouldn’t say killing is either.”

“Pff, you look like a girl who’s been on the streets before. You know how crappy things are out there. Where I come from, things are much the same. It’s just the reality of the Empire, really and some of us only got one way out.”

His words silence her and she decides not to respond, pushing further against the wall behind her. Hopefully, she won’t have to resort to that kind of thing.  


* * *

  
Several eventless days go by and except for the regular meals, which aren’t of the highest quality and not as frequent as one might like, things are starting to look pretty bleak. The guards haven’t returned to tell her of any sentence nor what might happen to her.  
She has been in this prison a few times before, and while she has tried to break out at least once, it wasn’t a very successful endeavor. That doesn’t mean she won't consider it once more, though. Staying in here for an eternity? That’s just not an option.

Later in the evening however, the situation changes as she’s visited by one of the guards, an imperial woman she doesn’t recognize, as well as dark brown-skinned man dressed in what looks like a mix of cloth and leather clothing; quite high quality too. Seems like a redguard, although not anyone she’s familiar with. They speak among themselves, but she overhears them.  
“This is her?”, he asks.

“Yeah, that’s what the list says. What do you want done with her, sir?”

The man watches Jollain as she gets into a sitting position on the bed. She has been resting a little while, for what else can one really do here?  
“You have a separate room that we can get some privacy?”

“Hmm, you could use one of the interrogation rooms.”

“Good enough. Take her there.”

He leaves while the imperial gets some keys up from her belt and unlocks the cell.  
“Alright, prisoner. Rise and shine”, she says with a fairly unamused voice.

Jollain groans as she rubs her forehead.  
“By the Nine, it’s in the middle of the night, dammit…”

“Sure is, but I’m certain you can get some sleep later. You’ve got a visitor who wants to speak with you.”

It interests her, but she also feels somewhat hesitant. Who’d want to talk to her? Those mages trying to make a deal or something? She didn’t actually manage to take anything.  
“…and what if I don’t want to talk to him?”

The guard starts to frown.  
“You prefer if I get you out of bed myself? It’ll be a lot less pleasant experience.”

Finally, she sighs and gets up on her own.  
“Fine, fine, I’m coming…”  
She moves away from her sleeping arrangements, which she has just gotten used to by now. When you don’t have much of a choice, you don’t really care how dirty it is.

She stops once she’s by the guard, knowing what’ll happen. The guardswoman appears rather confused, though.  
“What?”

“…aren’t you going to cuff me?”

“Oh, no, not this time.”  
Moments later, she closes and locks the gate.  
“Now get moving.”

Doesn’t even wanna restrain her? They’re usually so eager to mess with prisoners. Well, at least she won’t get scratches across her wrists today.  
She’s lead up through a different set of stairs from the ones she was dragged down previously, and wander through a corridor of nondescript wooden doors, where the guard stops her by the third to the right. She opens it up and Jollain heads inside, finding a simple wooden table with a candle on, as well as two chairs. There’s a set of scrolls next to the candle and the redguard man standing behind the chair on the far side, his arms behind his back.  
“Close the door and leave the vicinity for the time being.”

The imperial glances between them, but nods and does as she’s told. The tension is really growing on Jollain now and she’s feeling a lot less certain about being here than she already was before.  
“Mind telling me what I’m doing here?”  
She feels pretty shit at this point too. Hasn’t bathed in days and wearing the same damn clothes. Not that she owns a lot of them but, at least on the outside she gets the chance to occasionally wash them in the river.

His dark eyes gazes into hers and then motions towards the other chair.  
“Please, have a seat, miss Jollain.”

She’s not having that and folds her arms, while scowling slightly.  
“How do you know my name?”

Not the smartest question apparently, as she notices how he raises an eyebrow at her.  
“…it was on the prisoner list. It appears some of the wardens are well aware of your identity.”  
Well, that had quite an obvious answer, didn’t it? She figures it’s best to just do what he says and gets to her seat. He seems to wait until she does as well.  
“That wasn’t your best performance over at the University, a few days ago.”

Jollain sighs, angling her head away. Calling her here just to mock her?  
“…whatever. It wasn’t exactly an easy plan to execute all on my own, either.”

“True. It would’ve been very impressive if you had, although I’d argue it was still quite a feat to get as far as you did.”

She turns to him once more, looking somewhat confused.  
“Thanks, I guess”, she mutters.

The redguard starts moving, strolling across his side on the room, slowly and calmly.  
“It’s a tough life out there, isn’t it? The streets of the Imperial City have never been particularly hospitable.”

“Are you talking from experience? You don’t look like the type.”

With an amused expression, he glances at her.  
“Because of how I dress?”

“That’s one reason, yeah.”

The smile he brandishes is quite gentle, albeit a tad guilty too.  
“I’ll admit, I’ve not had to actually survive out there in the same way you do, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got no experience from the same areas.”  
He stops for a moment to grab one of the scrolls from the table, pulling it open to read some of the text on it. It’s held slightly away from the light, so she can’t actually see the contents.  
“You’ve been with the Thieves Guild for a while. Make a lot of gold?”

That’s not how she’d classify it, but she doesn’t starve, right? She shrugs briefly.  
“I survive.”

“Indeed, the guild tries its best to help people with that. I’ve met a few of them in the past. Good people, just ones that need a bit of a different path.”  
Jollain scowls, trying to figure out his game. Is this some kind of rival to the guild? She’s not exactly a member, but she performs jobs for them every now and then. She has never really encountered any competitors.  
The redguard slowly places the parchment back on the table and looks into her eyes again.  
“If you’re interested, I can offer a new path for you as well, one that might help you to gain a little more gold than for just survival.”

Yeah, this is sounding more and more like her suspicions are coming true.  
“…I’m not really that into competing with the guild, just so you know. Should probably be aware of that before you continue.”

He appears somewhat confused and raises an eyebrow, before he realizes and chuckles.  
“Oh, you misunderstand. We’re not in the same industry.”  
Turning his arms around to his back, he starts walking once more.  
“My organization is more involved in the business of…well, protecting the Empire and its interests. We want to make sure the people remain safe against any harmful element.”

“Uh, isn’t that what the Legion does?”

He tilts his head back and forth, mulling the statement over.  
“Mm, in a way, yes. We don’t utilize the same methods, however. The sort of group I’m in have more use for someone with your particular talents.”

Jollain remains skeptical. She’s not exactly a patriot.  
“What are you trying to say?”

“We’ve kept our eyes on you for quite a while. You’re one of few candidates that we believe deserves a place among us and can help us do some good work. How’d you like to ply your trade, but with more backup, pay and security? Working for us also means you might have a budget to fall back on if you manage to grow old.”

She lifts a hand, stroking it against her cheek while she tries her best to think this through.  
“To be honest, I’m not actually sure what you’re offering me. What are you? Spies?”

The redguard nods slowly.  
“Among other things, yes.”

A secret imperial organization wants to hire her? This must be one of the weirdest things that has happened to her.  
“I…don’t really know why you’d want me. I’m just a thief, for the most part. I don’t even have the sort of experience you’re thinking of.”

“For now. Everyone starts somewhere, right? I’m not going to send you on a difficult assignment right away. Naturally, we do our best to train our operatives, as long as they show some potential. And I’d say, in terms of stealth, speed and agility, you more than qualify. Everything else, we can provide you with the proper training.”

It’s a lot to take in at the same time. This morning, she woke up and wondered if the soup would taste any worse than it has done in the previous two days and if she might be able to get ahold of some metallic piece to get her lock open. This wasn’t how she had expected the day to end.  
“Well, it all seems rather…convenient, but I don’t feel like I have a choice. If I turn you down, they’ll just lock me up again for Divines know how long.”

The agent shakes his head, putting his hands on the back of his chair.  
“Oh, I suppose I should’ve gotten into that earlier. This isn’t us forcing you into service, miss Jollain. It is, of course, voluntary. If you turn us down, I’ll make sure you’re set free in the morning with a hundred Septims to go, as well. We wouldn’t wanna just strand you out there.  
But on the other hand, if you take my offer right here and now, not only will you have the safety of a job, you’ll also have quite a nice steady income and a lot of opportunities in the line of duty that comes with service to the Emperor. Think about it.”

Both offers are quite tempting in fact, and more generous than she might’ve expected. Freedom and instant gold or working for the Emperor? The guild would probably spit in her face, but then again, would any of them really turn such a thing down?  
She sighs and folds her arms once more.  
“Let’s say I agree to this, what would you have of me?”

What she implies seems to please him and he smiles, then reaches out a hand to her.  
“My name is Baurus, by the way.”  
She tentatively shakes his hand.  
“And, well, remaining here might not be the very best for your situation. Tell me, have you ever been to Morrowind?”


	2. First twilight

As her eyes slowly open, the view that fills them are that of a sea; a vast sea of stars, glistening and sparkling in their widespread range of glory. They almost appear to look down upon her, keeping a gentle and protective watch. Despite the sense of comfort they instill her with, her curiosity stirs from within and makes her move to a sitting position.  
To her confusion, she’s met by yet another large and open sea, but this one made of water. For a moment, she ponders her situation, before lowering her gaze. She starts to examine her immediate surroundings, noticing that she’s in some kind of wooden contraption, like a shielding cradle that carries her across the dark and still ocean. Upon her body is a soft, thin and almost shining white gown. It’s one of the finest pieces of clothing she has seen, which makes it all the more surprising. The touch of it on her skin is not only tender, but warm as well. Jollain has never worn anything like this before, nor could she ever afford it either. On the floor of the orb-like boat is a thick layer of cotton quilts, making it very relaxing to rest.

This realization makes it all the clearer to her – it must be a dream. What else could possibly create such a mysterious and yet enjoyable experience? Even while she’s thinking this, it does feel oddly real somehow. Everything around looks solid and palpable. She must be sleeping very deeply. Or can it be that she passed away during the trip? She remembers that they were travelling through a long and tiring road to the east. For the moment, her destination eludes her.

As her mind journeys along her memories, she shifts her eyes over to a break in the solitude, for a light can be seen wandering closer to her in among the darkness. For a moment, her heart races as it fears the swift incoming pace, but that soon switches to interest instead.  
Upon the water, she spots a person - a woman most likely - walking in a long set of blue robes with alternating shades of the color. There’s a hood attached to it, which is raised around her head. This just aids in enhancing that impression of a dream.  
The woman has grey skin like that of a dunmer, but her eyes are white, unlike the typical darkened colors of their kind. Her complexion does not give away her age, but there’s almost a sort of timeless sensation to her aura and beauty.  
She holds a basket of unknown contents in her left hand and an odd crescent shaped lantern in the right one.

Jollain doesn’t speak as she watches the woman stroll gently and confidently across the surface of the sea, simply waiting until she has practically reached the boat. The newcomer then takes the opportunity to start a conversation.  
“Welcome, rising moon. I have been waiting for you.”  
Her tone is soft and yet authoritative, like that of a stern and calm mother. Jollain isn’t sure how she’d know that, however. There’s also somewhat of an echo to the voice.

She lifts a hand and waves slightly to the dunmer.  
“Uh, hello there. How…how can you have been waiting for me? I don’t remember planning a visit.”

The other woman glances up at the sky.  
“The stars kept their ever-watchful sight upon you, of course. I simply followed their guidance. They spoke of your arrival.”

The bosmer followers the other’s gaze, moving up to the stars and they almost seem to twinkle a bit extra in response. Weird.  
“Huh.” She lowers them once more to the dunmer, who now walks by the side of her rather slow boat.  
“And erm, who might you be then?”

“I am the twilight of your lingering memory. You do not know me, but you have and in time, you will know again.”

Jollain arches one of her eyebrows and glances at her skeptically.  
“Great. So, a lady who speaks in riddles too. That’s just great…”

While she sighs, the dunmer smiles at her and then reaches out with her basket. Within, she sees a small ensemble of starfruits.  
“Hungry?”

Before the offer, she didn’t really feel any appetite, but as soon as her eyes falls upon them, that suddenly increases by several magnitudes. And so, she decides to take one and nods.  
“Thank you.”  
Jollain grabs the fruit in both hands, breaks it off in half and then starts eating one of the halves. It’s a somewhat sweet but mostly tart taste. Good, not great, but certainly better than she might’ve expected.

“You have travelled a long road to get here, but you have yet a long way ahead.”

She lifts her gaze to watch the dunmer again, while the other woman keeps herself turned forward now. Jollain studies the white eyes. They are empty, but not hollow. She might’ve expected them to be blind, but instead, it’s like she gets a feeling that they see beyond what anyone else could possibly achieve.  
Getting a bit uncomfortable, she shifts forward as well, looking out over the ocean.  
“What is this place?”

“It is the pools of shadowed future. It shows what is ahead and beyond; what has come and what is yet to arrive.”

“Oh. Does it show, uh, my future as well?”

Slowly, the dunmer angles her sight back to Jollain, a mysterious smile across her lips.  
“To peer into the future can be a dangerous endeavor. Are you sure your eyes have adjusted to such an occasion?”

Looking rather uncertain, Jollain chews on some more of her fruit before shrugging.  
“I…I dunno. How could I know? I’m not even sure what I’m doing here. This is a really weird dream…”

Once more, the woman smiles, but this time knowingly. She lifts the hand with the basket and it suddenly disperses as if simply fading out of existence. Reaching out, she moves it closer to Jollain.  
“Perhaps you are not ready quite yet. But, if you would like a glimpse of what is to come, take my hand and I shall guide you across the unknown.”

The strange wording and all the riddles confuses her, and it doesn’t really help much with the discomfort, but this lady has been rather kind to her. She decides to trust for the moment and places a hand within the grasp of her companion. The touch of her skin is soft and her grip is quite caring. It’s something Jollain wasn’t ready for and momentarily, she feels as if she wants to throw herself into those arms and embrace the other woman tightly.

All that changes when the dunmer’s eyes shifts instead into a blood red color and starts glowing, and as they do, the whole of the world around them transfers along with her.  
The sea begins to waver as a storm surrounds them and the blackness of the sky receive molten cracks of red. A heatwave blows up over her skin and in the distance, echoes of explosions, which tears her away from the stranger’s gaze.  
As if out of nowhere, a mountain rises virtually right in front of her boat, growing into impossible sizes. It continues until the top of it breaks and a cloud of blood red liquid pours down over it, like a sea of death that destroys anything in its path. The mountain erupts, balls of fire spews out all around the area and one of them crashes right down on top of her.

 

* * *

“Hey, wake up. I think we’ve arrived.”  
He places his hand on her arm, trying to make her move, but she stays where she is and simply continues to shiver.  
“Why are you shaking? Are you okay?”  
There’s no response and it appears almost impossible to get her to react. He’ll have to take it a few steps further.  
“Hey, Jollain? Wake up!”

Suddenly, her eyes shoot open and with a gasp, she rises into a sitting position.  
“W…what? Where…what’s going on?”

“Hey, easy there.”  
Jollain turns around to face the deep voice from the side and her eyes collide with that of the scarred dunmer from the dungeons in the Imperial City. Jiub, that was his name, right?  
He tilts his head, eyeing the bosmer curiously.  
“Eh, you okay?”

“Yeah, I-I think so.” Even while saying this, her breathing is rather heavy. She can’t shake the effects that easily.  
Realizing where she is, her memory slowly returns. She swiftly looks down, but can no longer see the gown from her dreams. Instead she wears a black tunic, blue pants and a set of sturdy boots, as well as a thin belt around her waist. They’re all clothes that she was given back in the Imperial City, courtesy of Baurus.

Jiub, who has also been handed some better garments than he had before - which used to be practically none - sits back down on his bed. They’re in a small room somewhere at the bottom of the ship, with two short beds, a few crates placed around them and a candle lit on the floor. Probably a storage room, working as their temporary quarters.  
“Well, you’re a heavy sleeper, aren’t you? Not even last night’s storm could wake you.”

She peers up, slightly confused.  
“What? Storm?”

“Yeah, it was raging all night. For a while, I thought we’d all get thrown overboard or sink, but we somehow got through it.”  
He snorts light.  
“And while the rest of us were panicking, you didn’t even budge from snoring.”

Jollain turns her gaze to the nearest wall, thinking back to the odd lady on the water. It’s still fresh in her mind now, but all the strange prophetic phrases are slowly fading. Great first impression of this place, to weird her out.  
She suddenly realizes what he just said and glares at him.  
“Hey, I don’t snore!”

Jiub arches an eyebrow in return.  
“Oh really? That’s not what I heard last night.”

“Whatever.” She waves a dismissive hand.  
“Well, we seem to be okay now. Feels pretty still, actually.”

He nods in response and glances at the door.  
“Yeah, I’m fairly sure we’ve stopped. Might be that we’ve arrived at our destination. They’re bound to let us go here, right? That’s what they said back in Cyrodiil.”

She begins to remember all of the things that happened back in the capital. That was the deal, wasn’t it? Jollain was to be transferred here and trained in the Emperor’s service, whatever that entails.  
Unknowingly, Jiub was taken with her, mostly so that it wouldn’t appear all too strange for her to be transported all alone. She believes two or three more prisoners are placed elsewhere on the ship, also to be released here in Morrowind. They were sitting in different carriages on the way to the vessel, so she didn’t actually get to meet any of them.  
“Probably, yeah. Or at least I hope so. Feeling pretty hungry right about now…”

Jiub sighs.  
“Yeah, they said they’d bring us breakfast but, I guess they skipped that until our arrival.”

“Tsk, typical guard hospitality…”

The two don’t have to wait for long though, as a pair of heavy boots can soon be heard outside of the door, approaching their room. They wait silently, until they hear a heavy knock, then how someone opens it up and outside, they see a bearded, brown-haired imperial. He surveys both of them, before nodding curtly.  
“Morning.”

“Uh, good morning to you, too”, she says skeptically.

“We’ve arrived at our destination and it’s here you’ll both get off.”  
His skeptical look is hard for both of them to miss.  
“Look, I know you’re both from the capital’s prison and you were to be set free here, but I’d prefer if we could all keep this civil, alright?”

The two elves glances at one another, then shrugs simultaneously, before Jollain responds.  
“Yeah, whatever. It’s not like we’ve got any weapons or anything.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t cause a lot of chaos out there.”

“You’re letting us go, aren’t you? Why would we wanna screw things up?”

The guard sighs shortly.  
“Just get up and follow me, dammit.”

Jiub frowns and Jollain shakes her head slightly, before they rise from their beds and do as they’re told. Before they leave the room, they both grab small bags of equipment that they were given prior to leaving Cyrodiil. For Jollain, that means some coins, spare clothes, a quilt, a torch and some other useful tools. No weapons, as they were not allowed to bring them, but the opportunity to purchase some will probably arrive at some point.

The imperial glances over his shoulder as he leads them through the bottom of the ship.  
“I assume you’ll wanna get out of here as soon as possible, but before you do, you’re expected to stop by the Census and Excise office. It’s right here on the docks, so we’ll take you there first.”

Jollain arches an eyebrow.  
“What, do you want to check our tax records before we leave or something?”

He frowns somewhat.  
“No, you fool, it’s simply a formality for new arrivals. And I’d advise you to give less lip to officers in the future, young lady.”

She only rolls her eyes and comments no further. At least Jiub appears slightly pleased with her attitude.  
The two are then led up a set of stairs, which takes them to the deck and as they exit through the hatch, the first thing that they’re met with is a wave of sea air blown right across their faces.  
For Jollain, this feels relatively good, seeing as how she has lived on the Waterfront of the Imperial City for years and being surrounded by water is no issue for her.  
But moments after that, her eyes sweep the area in front of her. She can see a small village made up of fairly short stone houses, in what looks like some kind of imperial style. On the outskirts, she spots a lighthouse as well. All around it, there’s water, odd hanging trees, reeds and grass. The place reminds her of some of the few marshes she has visited.

“So, this is Morrowind, huh?”

She moves up to the edge and places her hands on the railing. Jiub steps up not too far behind her, folding his arms as he nods.  
“Yep. Or well, Vvardenfell, to be exact.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s an island on the northern side of the nation, making up almost half of the entire area.”

If she glances up, past the woods, she can spot a tall mountain rising at the very center of the isle, making it impossible to look across to the other side. At the sheer size of it, she gains flashbacks to her dream and appear distant for a little while.  
That contemplation is swiftly interrupted however, as her body twitches when a loud cry echoes out over the area, sounding almost mournful. Her eyes swirl around and finally lands upon a massive creature out by the water, further into the village. It’s an odd beast, something she has never witnessed before. It’s virtually like a giant bug.  
“…what the blazing Oblivion is that?!”

Jiub blinks, not really having noticed it at first. He follows her gaze until he spots the silt strider standing by its station. He erupts into a slight laughter.  
“You’re truly new to this place, aren’t you? Welcome to Morrowind, my short friend.”


	3. Paperwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _For future reference, I've borrowed some of the Imperial Legion ranks from Skyrim, plus added one of my own at the end. So, this is the system:_   
>  _Auxiliary (lowest) - > Quaestor -> Praefect -> Tribune -> Centurion -> Legate -> Imperator (highest)_

As the situation with the gigantic bug dies down, Jollain and Jiub are both escorted through the docks and into the closest building, with a sign reading “Seyda Neen Census and Excise Office”.  
They pass by a rather small initial area, some kind of lobby where only one Imperial guard stands around, looking rather bored. There’s two doors and they’re taken to the one opposite the entrance, which leads into a much more proper office. 

There’s several shelves filled with books and scrolls, two plants placed on small tables in one corner each and a window that lets some light in. Upon the walls, they can see two different paintings – one of a rather important looking older man, which Jollain immediately identifies as Emperor Uriel Septim VII. Not that she has ever met him or even observed him up close, but a lot of people have these sort of tribute paintings of him. Or well, a lot of supposedly important people do.  
The other picture is also clearly of the Imperial City, not just for the circular appearance, but because of the very familiar White-Gold Tower sticking up in the middle.  
By another section of the walls, they see a recognizable red banner with a black dragon – the mark of the Imperial Legion. 

By the closest wall to the door, they spot another Imperial guard, and on the opposite side, there’s a wooden desk, filled with more scrolls, books, some pencils, ink and other valuable things for a bureaucrat. Behind the desk, there’s a fair-skinned older breton man, with white hair and quite a receded hairline. He scratches his neat beard as he looks up from one of the many books around him and nods at the guard.  
“These two are the prisoners that are to be dropped off here, and they’re ready for registration", the guard tells him.

The old man eyes the prisoners and then nods curtly.  
“Very well, I’ll take it from here then.”  
The guard simply turns on his heel and leaves the room, while the old man rises from his seat. Correcting his neat brown robes first, he then approaches them to shake their hands.  
“Welcome. I am Socucius Ergalla, chief administrator of Imperial Census and Excise on Vvardenfell. I’ve been told you are to be released as soon as possible, but of course, we must handle your registration before you’re allowed to go.” 

Jollain shakes his hand and then she sighs faintly.  
“If you must.” 

Socucius arches one of his bushy eyebrows at her reaction.  
“I hope that is not an expression of disagreement, young lady. Administration is an important aspect of Imperial business, for us to keep order among our citizens.” 

“Uh yeah, for you, maybe.”

He turns around and snorts, before proceeding to his seat.  
“You think it is not useful for you as well? How else would we keep order among the citizens, and provide the necessary services and acts of assistance for you all? The Empire depends upon properly handled and organized administration. We’d all descend into chaos without it!”

A bit overwhelmed by his enthusiasm, she throws Jiub a glance, who simply shrugs. She folds her arms before returning to the Breton.  
“Look, can we just get this over with?”

The old man closes the book on his desk and then grabs one of the nearby scrolls instead, which he unfurls.  
“Very well, if you’re in such a hurry.”  
He motions towards the chair on the front of his desk.  
“Sit down and let’s begin the process. This will take a little while.” 

Reluctantly, she proceeds to the chair, realizing she has got no choice.  
Jiub glances around the room and sees no other place for him.  
“Uh, should I sit somewhere too?”

Socucius eyes him, and then nods faintly, pointing towards the door.  
“Yes, you can wait out there in the lobby. I’ll get to you afterwards.”

The dunmer leans in and whispers before he leaves.  
“Good luck.”

Jollain nods, puts an elbow miserably on one the armrests and rubs a hand across her forehead, whilst the breton begins to scour his notes.  
“Right then, we shall start with something simple. Name?”

She only manages to open her mouth without emitting anything, when the second door in the office suddenly opens up. Both of them turn to gaze at the person coming in and Jollain can see at the edge of her vision that the guard in the room snaps into a salute, putting his closed fist to his chest.  
Jollain’s eyes fall, or rather rise, upon a tall woman, wearing a black and golden armor, with red cloth sleeves and a red cloth skirt attached to the bottom. The middle of her chest is adorned with a golden dragon and the armor appears far more intricate than that of the guard in the room. Of course, she has a longsword hanging from her belt as well.  
The woman herself has short black hair, dark green eyes and medium brown skin. Due to her height outmatching everyone else Jollain has seen thus far, it’s plausible to guess that she’s a nord or a very tall redguard.  
Her facial features are somewhat rough and even though they’ve yet to speak, she already sports a bit of a scowl. 

The administrator appears quite surprised.  
“Legate Svalen? What are you doing here?”

Her eyes are focused upon the bosmer, however.  
“Jollain?”, she asks in a fairly deep tone.

As she’s rather surprised, it takes a second for her to register the question.  
“Uh, yeah?”

“Good. Come with me.”

She hesitates, but then rises from her seat, which makes Socucius lift a hand.  
“B-but, erm, I have yet to finish with the registration, Legate.”

“I’ll take it from here, then.”

Jollain can see some irritation on his expression, but it appears he has no choice. Makes her smile a bit.  
“…very well. Please, send a copy to my office after you are done.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  
She motions with her hand to the bosmer.  
“Follow me.”

Jollain isn’t quite sure whether she should feel glad or not, as she doesn’t really know this nord, but it is rather amusing to see her just run over a bureaucrat.  
“Next!” is the last things she hears, before she leaves the office and follows the Legate through some other corridors. She’s then led into a smaller office with a less impressive desk than the one at the front. There’s a few scrolls and pouches on the table, as well as some boxes at the far end of the room.

“Do they give smaller offices for higher-ups in this place?”

The nord frowns light as she sits down by one of the two chairs in the room.  
“I don’t work here.”  
She grabs one of the scrolls, unfurls it and then starts reading some of the text within.

“No? Uh, but you could just boss that guy around.”

“Yes, because I’m a Legate and he’s just a bureaucrat.”

Jollain looks somewhat distant and when she places herself on the other chair, she rubs her hand over her chin.  
“That’s not an Imperial Watch rank.”

“No, it isn’t, it’s an army rank, one of the highest officers. The Imperial Watch doesn’t operate here in Morrowind.”  
She briefly raises her eyes from the parchment.  
“I’m Legate Asta Svalen of the Thirteenth Legion, and commander of Fort Moonmoth, east of Balmora.” 

Jollain nods faintly.  
“Sounds impressive.”  
Asta doesn’t answer that, and instead goes back to reading the information on the scroll. That gives the elf some time to survey her, seeing a few faint wrinkles across her features, but also the rather visible muscles on her closest arm. Obviously a well-trained soldier, although it’s uncertain of what age. Not a youngster, at least.  
“Are you from Skyrim? You don’t have that accent.”

The Legate looks up sharply, making Jollain tilt her head back slightly. Asta is rather intimidating, but quickly tries to relax.  
“No, I’m not. I grew up in Leyawiin.” 

“Oh, right. Well, I’m from Cyrodiil too.” 

“Yes, I know.”  
She taps her finger against the parchment.  
“It says so in here.”  
After that, she goes back to reading the scroll once more, forcing Jollain to sit and wait. Even if she finds it really boring, it doesn’t take all too long, perhaps a minute or two, until Asta nods.  
“Right, just had to look through this information. Didn’t have the time before. I called you here on a separate meeting, as you and I have an associate who would prefer that you do not get registered in the standard fashion.”

Well, that would explain the abrupt relocation at least.  
“Ah, I suppose that makes sense. Do you work with them too, then?”

“No, I do not. However, I am one of their…associates in the Legion. Your superior and I have known each other for a few years.  
How much do you know of your assignment?”

She shrugs slightly.  
“Not much. I was just given a location and a basic amount of supplies, then got shipped here.”

Asta sighs briefly.  
“Yeah, they can be rather frustratingly vague. Well, I’ve got some more supplies for you, given to me by your superior. It includes a map, a weapon, some sleeping arrangements and some documents that you can read through later.  
You are to go to the city of Balmora; it’s a place several miles north from here, across the Odai River. While there, try to locate the South Wall cornerclub and ask for Caius Cosades. They’ll know where to find him. He will have orders for you.”

She grabs one of the pouches on the table and puts it in Jollain’s arms. The bosmer appears unsure and slightly overwhelmed.  
“O…okay. Sure, I guess I can do that. But erm, I’ve never been here before. I’ve got no idea where to find this Balmora place. Or will you be escorting me? Since you said your fort was up there.”

Asta snorts slightly.  
“No, I’ve got important business to the south, in Ebonheart. I simply came here at his request, as it was on the way. I’ve had to wait for a couple of days for your arrival.”

“Then how am I supposed to get to Balmora? Just walking and hoping for the best?”

“I can give you some directions if you want to, but the smart course of action would be to purchase a ride with a silt strider. Fastest, cheapest and safest way to get across Vvardenfell for a civilian.”

Jollain arches an eyebrow in confusion.  
“…what’s a silt strider?”

Asta watches her for a few moments, and then exhales heavily at her complete lack of knowledge of anything here. She’s clearly wondering if this was really the right person for them to hire.  
“You might’ve seen one on the outside. It’s one of those large creatures that stands out in the water.”

After a few seconds of silence, the bosmer widen her eyes.  
“Wait, you mean those giant bugs? People _ride_ those?”

“Of course. Skilled drivers, or caravaners as they’re called, have ways to control them by manipulating exposed organs and tissues.”

“…wow, I think that’s one of the grossest things I’ve heard today.”  
Asta closes her eyes and groans. How will she survive this place?  
“But how in Oblivion can you ride with them? They’re way too tall for any wagon.”

Asta slowly opens her eyes again.  
“They don’t pull anything, fool. There’s a compartment carved into its shell, up on the back. You sit in there with the caravaner.”

Jollain simply stares at her, mouth slightly agape in shock. It takes a few moments for her to mentally register everything.  
“…tell me there are some kind of alternatives. Horses or…I dunno, something!”

The Legate actually seems mildly amused when she shakes her head.  
“Sorry, the only horses that have been shipped here are used solely for military use. You might find a few guars to ride further north, but nothing is as established as the silt strider system.”

“Fine, then lend me a horse!”

“Not a chance. Those are strictly for the Imperial Legion and despite your station, you are certainly not with us. So, either you walk for several miles through an unknown area, filled with dangers you’ve never seen before, or you make the smart decision to ride on a silt strider. Your choice.”

Jollain shuts her eyes and buries her face right in her hands, with a miserable expression.  
“I hate this fucking place already…”

Asta pats her shoulder and then stands to open the door.  
“Get up, time for you to move. Oh, and welcome to Morrowind, agent.”


	4. Imperial service

After the rather harrowing experience of riding on a giant bug for a few days, Jollain arrives in Balmora one early morning. As the sun shines down on the city, she gets a fairly good view of it.  
Her first impression of seeing it from the silt strider docks is that it’s not as big as it was made up to be. The caravaner had told her Balmora is the second largest city on Vvardenfell, so she had been expecting a much bigger place than what she got; no towers reaching up dozens of meters, no gigantic walls nor massive statues. But she catches herself soon after, realizing that she’s comparing it to the Imperial City.  
Adjusting her expectations after this, makes her acknowledge it is a pretty large town after all, probably comparable to some minor cities in Cyrodiil.

When she leaves the docks, she gets a closer look of the architecture of the buildings, and finds their design rather odd in comparison to the Cyrodiilic fashion. For the most part, they’re flat but with sort of miniature walls at the top, to give access to an area on the roof as well. And with the fact that the city itself is built around slopes by the edge of a river, some rooftops appear to be quite easy to reach. She wonders if that’s an advantage or not for the inhabitants.

Before leaving the docks, the caravaner had informed her that her goal was located on the eastern part of the city, called “Labor Town”. Figures that they’d separate the classes in this land. Everyone else does too, right?  
She passes by some rather oddly clothed people on the way, wearing yellow armors that look somewhat more organic than the iron or steel outfits she has seen on the Imperial Watch or Legion. Instead of ornaments of dragons, like on the Legion, these ones have neat inscriptions and symbols across different areas. She has no idea what they mean, but figures that they might be the local guards. Who else would wear armor around a city?

With the fairly adequate description she was given, it wasn’t hard to find the building she was looking for further to the east, along the area which carries its namesake. The South Wall Cornerclub, despite being designed very differently from the sort of establishments that she’s used to, still reminded her of some of the bars she has visited in the Imperial City. Most of that is probably due to the diverse clientele and how they seemed to serve a lot of drinks that you can purchase back in the capital too.

Because of the time of day, not many customers could be found inside, but the bartender was still ready to provide her with what she needed. She was met with some concern regarding why she would ever want to meet with someone like Caius Cosades, but that didn’t stop them from giving her the necessary directions to his ‘den’, as they called it. What is that all about? She had already figured that he would have some kind of fake identity, but by the sound of things, he seems to have made an unwise choice.

Once she leaves, she faces forward and begins to wander towards the northeastern corner of the city, where she was told she’d find the correct house. Along the way, she walks past some of the locals and realizes that the majority of people here are dunmer. Even though this city definitely has other races, they still gaze at her suspiciously, some of them muttering something that she doesn’t understand. For now, she ignores them and continues along her path.

The house she arrives at looks somewhat run-down. There’s no real indicators that anyone actually lives here, other than the numbers 23B on the side of the door. The B has almost fallen off.  
Jollain heads up to the door and gives it a few quick knocks. After a few seconds, there is no response. She tries once more and while she waits a bit longer, the situation doesn't change. Did someone trick her? She can’t really see a reason for anyone wanting to lure her into the wrong area. Not that she’d ever discount a trap, but this isn’t a very efficient one in that case.  
Eventually, she sighs, closes her fist and bangs on the door a bit harder.

“Hello? Anyone in there?”  
She puts her ear to the surface and shortly after, she hears the noise of something probably falling over and then an annoyed groan. Was he sleeping? She knocks a few more times, somewhat gentler, for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, dammit!”

As the place is not that big, his yelling is very audible. She hears some ruckus, like a few things being knocked down on the ground, before someone finally unlocks the door and opens it up.  
The first thing Jollain notices is the horrid smell, probably originating from liquor. She’s not sure if it’s from the man or the apartment. Either way, it’s pretty bad.  
Next, she gives the person a good inspection, as he becomes fully visible for her. It’s an old man, for sure, with pale skin, a far receded hairline, grey hair and one of the most tired expressions she has seen in a while. There are quite dark, thick rings around his eyes and she can't tell if it’s from lack of sleep, or something else. On top of that, he’s dressed only in a pair of worn cloth pants, not even wearing any shoes. His topless chest and arms appear to be fairly dirty, but for some reason, his upper body is quite well-trained. She notices a few scars as well, figuring he has seen combat before.  
The old imperial frowns at her and his words are somewhat slurred when he mutters.

“And what the fuck d’ya want, huh? Wha’ kinda buffoon would disturb an old man’s sleep like this?”

Jollain is startled to begin with and she clears her throat. She has to remember that this guy apparently works for the Emperor.  
“Uh, hey, I’m looking for Caius Cosades. Is that…you?”

“Yeah, ‘course it’s me! Who else would I fucking be?”, he asks annoyedly and then rubs his forehead.  
“What’d ya want? A bottle? Gonna have to wait ‘til tomorrow. Not getting my next batch until then.”

She can guess what he means by bottle and how the smell is probably from something different, but she tries to ignore it for now.  
“Erm, no, that’s not why I’m here. I wanna speak with you, actually. It’s about…a delivery.”

He looks at her for a few seconds, seemingly rather confused.  
“Huh? What delivery? I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Well, it’s from a contact of yours and it contains some…sensitive stuff. Might I come in and show you?”

She’s not sure what she can say here and if anyone else is listening. How much can she reveal before things get suspicious? That said, it isn’t doing much to convince him either and he merely waves at her dismissively.  
“Look, I’m not interested, lady. Go talk to someone at the bar if you wanna sell some crap.”

It appears he’s about to go and close the door, but she quickly takes a step forward and puts a hand on it.  
“No, wait! I’m serious here, you _will_ want to see this.”

Finding no other option right now, she puts her hand down into her bag and lifts out the envelope. She tries to display the red wax seal with the dragon symbol directly towards him and as soon as Caius turns to look at it, his drunken façade breaks. Realizing what’s going on, he puts it back on in an instant, tears the letter from her hand and instead takes a step back.  
“Well, why didn’t you just say so, huh? C’mon in.”

Entering his house doesn’t give Jollain any better view of this guy, but at least she understands what all the nonsense before was about.  
There's two kinds of bottles strewn around, but it's the suspicious little nondescript ones lying on the floor and on the sole table in the room that gets her attention, which can only mean one thing – skooma. What else would they make such a big deal out of? And no alcohol she knows comes in such small containers, so there’s no doubt. It’s actually one of the few fields that she has tried to stay out of. She has tested it, for sure, but it’s not something she wants to get addicted to, knowing what it does to people.

“Nice place you’ve got”, she says. The sarcasm in her tone is almost palpable.

He gives her a brief glare before he closes the door and stumbles inside, approaching one of his chairs. There really isn’t a lot of things in here; a simple bed, a table, two chairs, a dirty rug on the floor, a cupboard and some basic tools. Except for the bottles, there’s also a skooma pipe and a lit candle on the table.  
Once he sits down, he carefully opens the letter and his expression becomes a lot more serious. He turns his back to her and reads it in silence for a couple of minutes. It doesn’t take much longer than that and afterwards, she sees how he folds the paper, lifts it to his candle and then holds it as it gradually burns in his hand.

He slowly turns around and there’s now a clarity in his eyes that she didn’t see previously. He straightens his back and when he speaks, his voice carries none of the previous slur it had.  
“Interesting. So, you’re Jollain, then? They did mention you’d be coming.”

She drops her bag down on the floor and clears her throat.  
“Yep, that’s me. I uh, just came from Cyrodiil a few days ago. Was kind of a mess to actually get here but, I tried my best.”

Caius nods with a thoughtful look in his eyes.  
“Who was it that made the initial contact?”

“Oh, uh, a guy called Baurus.”

He continues to look distant for a moment, before he snorts in amusement.  
“I see. At least you were recruited by the right people then. Is it true that you’re fresh off the streets?”

“It is. I was actually still in prison when he called for a meeting with me, although he never explained why. I never really expected to be sent here.”

Once the letter is done burning, Caius lifts a hand to his cheek, tapping it in thought.  
“How much have they told you about the situation here?”

“Well, pretty much nothing. I got your documents, but…haven’t had the chance to read them just yet. All of this is really new to me. I’ve almost never even been outside of the Imperial City.”

He gives it a few more seconds, but his gaze is now starting to fill with doubt.  
“I’m going to be honest with you, miss Jollain – I’m skeptical of why you’ve been sent to Vvardenfell. You don’t really have the necessary skills for an operative, nor have you visited any of our training centers for even a second. Most of those are in Cyrodiil and you should’ve spent some time there before being sent anywhere.”

Jollain hesitates and she raises her left hand to squeeze her other arm.  
“Well…sorry, I guess.”

Caius shakes his head.  
“Not your fault. I only figured you’d want to hear my opinion. I prefer to be frank with most of those who work for me and you’re included in that designation now.  
That said, I will comply with the Emperor’s orders. If my superiors say that you will be working for us, then I’ll accept it.”  
He gestures towards his other chair.  
“Take a seat and let us discuss your current situation. There’s a few things you need to know before you go anywhere else.”

Following his orders, she proceeds to the other side of the table and drops her bag right behind it.  
“It’d be nice to know where I should stay too.”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that. First things first, you’ll need be aware of some important aspects – who we are, your duties and the factions of this land.”  
He leans over the table and offers his hand.  
“I’m Caius Cosades, Grand Spymaster of the Order of Blades here on Vvardenfell.”

She doesn’t hesitate in this regard at least and eagerly shakes his hand. She quickly feels that his grip is much firmer than hers.  
She also has to admit being a little bit surprised. How can this shaggy old man be some kind of imperial spy leader? That seems pretty crazy to her.  
“Order of Blades? Huh, so that’s your name.”

Caius raises a confused brow.  
“Wait, Baurus didn’t tell you this?”

As they retract their hands again, she shakes her head.  
“Nope. Like I said, only gave me his name and some basic directions.”

Caius furrows his brow, looking away for a moment as if to find another angle to this situation.  
“Hmm, this is a very…strange situation. Did he actually tell you anything about your release?”

“Not really. He just said they’d kept their eyes on me for a while.”

“That may have been true, but according to the document you gave me, the Emperor himself authorized your release and initiation into the Blades.”

Jollain widens her eyes in surprise. This was not something she’d expected to hear. Why would he care about a lowly thief?  
“Uh, okay. Is that something he usually does, or…?”

“Hah, no, he certainly does not. Although, it is true that he has an eye for talent and for several years now he’s had a particular…mind for these sorts of things.  
I don’t know what he sees in you but, I serve his Imperial Majesty as always, and I won’t question his orders. He says you need to be trained, then so it shall be.”

She rolls her eyes. Pretty much saying there’s no way he’d actually recruit her.  
“Tsk, thanks.  
What is it you guys actually do here, though? You’re spies, right?”

Caius stands up and walks over to one of the corners in his room. He opens a box there and pulls out a bottle of water, as well as two mugs. He puts them on the table and pours some up for both of them.  
“That’s right. We’re the Emperor’s hidden eyes and ears, placed around every province in Tamriel.”

“Even the Summerset Isles?”

“Oh, especially the Summerset Isles. We infiltrate the different parts of various societies, often the major cities. From the shadows, we watch the proceedings and the Emperor’s enemies, making reports and looking for opportunities.  
If he calls for us at any time, we obey.”

Jollain is brought into silence for a bit, letting all this sink in before she responds again.  
“That sounds…really serious.”

Caius displays a small smile. It appears he’s not humorless, at least.  
“It is, but don’t let it bring you down. What we do is important and not without risk, but if the reports are correct, I believe you are a very capable person. I suppose we shall see about that.”

She lifts a hand to scratch her neck slightly.  
“Uh yeah, maybe. I’m not much of a fighter, though. I mean, I can sneak around well enough, but we didn’t used to fight that much back in the capital. If we got into trouble, we usually just ran.”

There’s a quick chuckle from Caius as he considers it, then a curt nod.  
“Don’t worry, I don’t think we can expect you to be a master just yet. Vvardenfell has become a very important location after an imperial presence was established here, so I’ve got quite a few agents at my disposal. There’s a few in each major city, and I’ve got two here just in Balmora.  
Since it appears you’ll need some training, as soon as you can, you’re going to head down and meet one of them. His name is Maak-Veh.”

“Who’s he?”  
Jollain grabs her mug and takes a little sip.

“One of the most skilled weapon masters I’ve ever had the chance to meet. I assume you prefer swords or something along those lines?”

“Erm, yeah. Daggers work too. Something that’s fairly easy to handle.”

He smirks a bit to himself, but Jollain doesn’t quite get what’s so funny.  
“Probably shouldn’t say that to him. Until you’re properly trained, he believes no weapon can really be called ‘easy’ to handle.”

Jollain starts to frown.  
“He sounds like a prick to me.”

Caius erupts into a laughter, something she wasn’t expecting, but it doesn’t take all too long for him to settle down.  
“We’ll see what you think when you meet him, hmm? Maak-Veh is an argonian, a former master hunter from Black Marsh. He used to work for the King of Black Marsh for a while actually, but he’s been under my employ for a few years now. He’ll be teaching you how to fight properly.”

“Hmm, why did he leave Black Marsh?”

“I think it’s best if he tells you that story.”  
Caius lifts his hand, stroking his cheeks slightly. It appears he just noticed he hasn’t shaved in a few days; although, it’s most likely part of the role he has to play.  
“At any rate, your duties are whatever orders I give you, with the purpose of serving the Emperor and the Empire. As long as you follow them to the letter, you’ll get paid. If you have any questions about the land or the city, outside of what I’ll be telling you today, direct them to me. I am mostly here in this house, but it’s wise not to come around too often. I shall teach you some codewords to use if you want to speak directly.”

Jollain isn’t particularly fond of doing what other people tell her but, if she can really earn what she was promised, perhaps it’s worth it.  
“Okay. What will I be doing in more detail, though?”

“For the most part, performing various activities surrounding espionage, information gathering and, possibly, infiltration if need be.  
In order to succeed with this, you’ll obviously need to know more about the many factions of Morrowind. In Vvardenfell, they’re divided into three different categories – Imperial ones, the Great Houses and outliers.  
The imperial factions are ones that you’re likely familiar with; the Legion, the Fighters Guild, the Mages Guild, the Church of the Nine Divines, the East Empire Trading Company, the Census and Excise office and to a certain extent, us. Most people are not aware of our presence, however.”

Jollain folds her arms and leans back in her chair.  
“I don’t suppose we can go to anyone for help if we really need it?”

“Not just anyone, no. We have certain contacts within each of those factions and you’ve obviously already met Legate Svalen from the Legion. However, most of their regular members have no idea who we are and I suggest you do not approach them casually.  
That said, as an imperial citizen, you are more likely to receive better treatment there than in some of the other groups.”

It’s the latter section which makes Jollain somewhat doubtful.  
“Better treatment? They really don’t like us here, huh?”

Caius raises a hand and sighs, hoping to calm any worries.  
“We’ll get to that.  
Next is the Great Houses. In some ways, you could call them nobles, as they have had a certain privilege for quite some time, but it’s more accurate to see them as political parties in the modern age. They derive from ancient tribes and clans that gradually grew more powerful. Now, they’re all part of the Grand Council, the group that leads Morrowind.  
There’s five of them in total – Hlaalu, Redoran, Telvanni, Dres and Indoril. Only the first three actually operate on Vvardenfell and they all have different responsibilities and interests. Most Hlaalu members are either diplomats or businessmen, Redoran have a focus on Morrowind traditions and martial issues, while Telvanni consist mostly of mages, with a lot of them preferring isolation and accumulating power and knowledge for themselves. Balmora belongs to Hlaalu’s territory.  
I also tend to connect the Tribunal Temple to the Great Houses, due to their structure and focus on leadership.”

“Uh, who?”

“The Tribunal is the native religion of this land. It means worshipping the three living gods - Almalexia, Sotha Sil and Vivec. While they are treated as deities, they can also be seen as leaders of the land, or God-Monarchs, if you will.”

Before he can go any further, he sees how Jollain raises a hand.  
“Hold on a second. ‘Living gods’? Are you saying they have…gods, here in Morrowind?”

Seeing how he smirks, he’s likely fairly amused by her reaction.  
“They have indeed, and while they can be quite generous with their faithful, I would suggest being careful. Try not to anger or offend any of their priests. The Tribunal has a force called the Ordinators here, which contain probably the toughest warriors in all of Morrowind.”

Jollain widens her eyes, once more asking herself why she chose to go here.  
“…okay, uh, thanks, guess I’ll do that.”

“The last group I mentioned are the outliers and I count a mix of ‘outlanders’ and dunmer within that term.  
The Thieves Guild is the most obvious, but they’re not alone. There’s also Camonna Tong, Morag Tong and the Ashlanders.  
Camonna are basically rivals to the Thieves Guild, with a slightly more vicious edge. The guild unfortunately faces a lot of distaste from the natives, which has convinced some to ally with Camonna out of principle.  
Morag Tong is a regional assassin’s guild and the Ashlanders are a group of dunmer who live in the ‘traditional way’ of their people. They’re often shunned by the Great Houses and can be found within the wilderness, rather than the cities.”

Jollain considers each of the names, hoping to put them all to memory. It’s probably best if she asks to have this on paper later on.  
“So, the Thieves Guild exists here too? That’s…interesting.”

Caius lifts his mug once more, taking a sip and then nods curtly.  
“Mhm, they do. That document I was given said you used to be a member in the capital.”

She clears her throat a bit awkwardly, seeing the needs to make a correction.  
“Actually uh, I was never a member. I did some business with them, sometimes took a job or two but, I never officially joined. If you can call that sort of thing official.”

“Huh. Guess they didn’t do their background check thoroughly enough.”

Jollain shrugs briefly.  
“Maybe they were just assuming. I get that a lot.”

Caius snorts and shakes his head.  
“Perhaps, though that’s not something expected from the Blades. Nevertheless, I stay around their territories from time to time as well. The South Wall Cornerclub is one of their hangout places.”

“They don’t have a guild house or anything?”

“Not really, no. As I mentioned, some are not as fond of them around here, especially not Camonna Tong. I believe they have a bit of an underworld war, as they don’t tolerate these so-called outlander upstarts to come spreading their own influence.”

That doesn’t sound all too good. In Cyrodiil, all they really had to contend with was the Imperial Watch and some minor smuggling groups, as far as she knows.  
“Hmm, well, always good with competition, I guess.”

“Since you seem to understand how it works within that area, I suggest we find a way to place you among them to begin with. Starting in the guild will give you a position that’s beneficial for us too, as you can attain information both about them and through them. The only real problem will be that you might clash with Camonna and they do not play by any rules you probably remember from the capital.”

Not only meeting with the guild again, but actually joining them this time? She doesn’t know how she feels about it, but supposes that it could be worse. At least she ought to know how they operate.  
“Okay, yeah, guess I can do that. If this Maak-Veh can teach me how to fight, I should be able to defend myself too.”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, Jollain. You may not be ready for a new life here, but I promise that we won’t send you into the field without necessary precautions.  
Of course, we’ll need to arrange living quarters for you, as well. There’s a few rentable apartments around Balmora and I’ll see if I can talk to some people.”

“I have some of that gold you sent, plus some Baurus gave me. I should be able to pay immediately.”

“Good and I’ll make sure that the proper words reach the right ears, so that there’s no suspicion aimed your way.”  
He stands up, walks a little closer and puts a hand on her shoulder.  
“Vvardenfell can be a tough place for newcomers, but hopefully, you will see it as a home soon enough. In the service of the Emperor, you will always find companionship as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I think it goes without saying but, Caius will probably have some of his people watching Jollain for a while. You know, just in case._


	5. Flowing current

After the successful meeting with Caius, Jollain spent the rest of the day locating a new place to live and made a valiant attempt at decorating it with what things she could acquire from nearby vendors. With a little help from her new boss, it wasn’t all that difficult to obtain the living quarters themselves, as quite a few are apparently available in certain districts of the city. She had hoped that there’d be an apartment for her along the riverside, as those are apparently somewhat fancier than ones further into Labor Town, but she had to settle for one just behind this row, which she could live with it.  
The size of the place is only slightly larger than what she found Caius in, but it’s pretty much equal to any of the buildings she utilized back in the capital.

The next couple of days are used for attaining a few more items for her house, as she needed at least a shelf and a few storage boxes for various items. It also gives her an opportunity to learn more of the layout of the city. She needs to get used to Balmora now, as this is the town where she’ll do pretty much all of her business from now on. She held off on contacting anyone from the Thieves Guild, though, as she had another endeavor in mind; it’s time to locate that teacher of hers.  
When she talks to Caius about it, to her surprise, she finds out that this agent does not live within the city itself, but in a cabin further south along the river. He is apparently not much of a city person. She remembers what Caius had already told her of his behavior and from the sound of things, Jollain seriously doubts the chances of the two of them getting along.

Once a new day arrives, she takes off right after breakfast and follows the directions she had received previously. When she reaches her destination, placed in among a small gathering of trees in view of the river, she surveys the surrounding area first of all. It’s quite a calm and quiet little place, away from people and not all too close to the road. That’s not to say that nobody ever passes by, but there are definitely a lot of opportunities for privacy.  
Before she arrived, she couldn’t really see any signs leading to this house either, which gives her the impression that this man isn’t looking to be available for contact, but Caius has informed her that the authorities know of his presence in the vicinity and he does have a permit for his location.

Having learned from her last encounter, Jollain approaches the door and starts off by giving it a good, hard knock, before waiting several patient seconds.  
Nothing. No response and no indication of anyone actually moving in there. She tries once more and yet again, there’s only silence.  
Well, this seems to be kind of a waste. She walked all the way over here, expecting him to be home and doesn’t really feel like waiting around if he’s out on an errand somewhere. Her eyes travel down to the door handle and figures she might as well check.  
To her surprise, it is unlocked and she’s now confronted with a dilemma; should she go inside and check the place out or simply pretend nothing ever happened and hope he gets back soon? This argonian is obviously an agent as well, so he probably will be suspicious, but hopefully flashing Cosades’ name should be enough to convince him.

With a determined nod, she pulls the door open and walks inside. While the cabin itself isn’t huge, it’s certainly larger than her apartment back in Labor Town. It has at least two rooms, meaning there is more space for furniture. Strangely enough, he doesn’t actually own that much. There’s obviously a bed, one simple wooden table, some boxes and cabinets, but most things in here are items acquired out of necessity, and there’s little that she would classify as decorative or utilized for aesthetic purposes. No interior vegetation, paintings, shelves of books or other visually pleasing pieces. Perhaps he’s more of a practical man.

She closes the door behind her and once she wanders into the other room, which appears to be one for storage, she notices a hatch further in, close to the wall. When approaching it, she’s pretty sure she can hear noises from somewhere down there. It sounds like…grunts? Might that be the one she’s looking for? Maybe he has gotten into some kind of trouble. He is an agent of the Emperor after all; he’s bound to have enemies.

After opening the hatch, Jollain sees a set of stairs descending into some kind of underground tunnel. Not a very long one, but something that ends in yet another door several meters ahead. She decides to wander down through it, constantly keeping an eye open for any traps or other dangers. Once she’s right in front of the entrance, it’s clear that there’s someone doing some kind of physical activity within.  
Very carefully, she pulls the door open and takes a peek in the gap. Immediately, she notices a whole different kind of setup inside this underground room. She can see training dummies planted along a wall, several tables and stands with armors, weapons and tools of all sorts. In the middle of this area, she spots a shirtless argonian, wearing only a set of simple cloth pants and sturdy shoes, with space for the claws on his feet. His scales are dark red, with several messy patterns of green running through them. There’s one straight line of horns going at the very top of his head, maybe five or six in a row, as well as a few protruding around either side of his jaw.  
In terms of his physique, he's not as big as she may have anticipated. It definitely looks like he hones his body, but doesn't try to build any overly noticeable muscles.

In his hands there’s one sword in each, which he uses to swings around with, although not randomly. He alternates between different stances and positions, slicing in front of him with precision and purpose. It’s quite fascinating to watch and Jollain remains where she is with the door barely half-opened, just waiting. For the most part, she’s looking for an opening, but she can’t deny that it gives her an excellent opportunity to study the person that she might need to spend a lot of time with.

Unfortunately, she is not as stealthy as she may have believed and her spying lasts no more than a few seconds. Suddenly, without any indications of suspicion, the argonian spins around and hurls one of his blades straight towards the doorway, letting it be impaled on the wall next to her. She widens her eyes in shock and throws her arms up.  
“Whoa!”

Maak-Veh frowns and his yellow reptile-like eyes are focused on her, as he points the other blade in her direction.  
“You’re intruding. I have nothing you want. Get out of here or I’ll have to cut you down, elf.”

This went about as well as could be expected, possibly with slightly more abrupt violence than she initially imagined.  
“H-hold on! I’m not trying to take anything! Caius sent me.”  
She quickly pulls down one of her arms and fishes out a small scroll from her pocket.

Her other arm lingers in the air, but the tension around the argonian slowly dissipates and he lowers his weapon.  
“…oh. I see.”  
He approaches her position to snatch the scroll out of her hand and quickly unfurls it.  
Tentatively, she lowers her arm and looks up at him with uncertainty as he reads the encoded letter. He’s not very tall, but still above her.  
After a little while, Maak raises his eyebrow doubtfully, before slowly surveying her. Moments later, he snorts and turns around, striding towards one of the tables.  
“You’ve been sent from Cyrodiil, have you? Could they not have taken care of you instead?”

Jollain lifts a hand and scratches the back of her neck.  
“Uh, I dunno. They just told me that I’d be sent here. Maybe they thought you needed more agents?”

The argonian briefly shakes his head.  
“Rookies? Sounds to me like they simply wanted to relocate some kind of mess that the Emperor had dumped on them and we were an appropriate target.”  
Jollain frowns, not really liking that term. She is not anyone’s mess.  
“Nevertheless, I suppose I have no choice. Orders are orders.”  
He puts the swords back into a couple of sheaths that lie on the table.  
“I am Maak-Veh. What should I call you?”

His question confuses her at first. Wasn’t her name in the letter? Perhaps that isn’t as important as her own choice in the matter.  
“Jollain works just fine.”

“Very well.”

Turning his eyes towards her, he lifts a clawed hand and motions for her to enter. She has been remaining by the doorway until now, but follows his suggestion and walks inside, closing it behind her.  
“Your front door was open, by the way.”

“I know.”  
There are chairs in here, but he doesn’t indicate that they should sit just yet.  
“Do you have any prior training whatsoever?”

“Erm, not a lot. I’ve lived on the streets for most of my life and since it’s dangerous out there, I’ve kinda had to get used to wielding a weapon at all times. Been a part of the Thieves Guild too, where I learned a couple of tricks. No official training though, or whatever. I’m not a soldier.”

Maak apparently doesn’t see the need in putting on a shirt and instead remains standing in the middle of the room, his arms folded. He allows there to be a few meters of distance in between him and Jollain.  
“You don’t need to be a soldier to learn how to fight. Do you have a weapon?”

Jollain blinks confusedly, but then looks down at her belt and reveals the dagger that has been hidden somewhat beneath her shirt.  
“Uh yeah, I got this.”

He gives the tool a brief glance, his expression not changing and then nods curtly.  
“Let me see you wield it.”  
With Caius’ words echoing through her mind, she displays a modicum of hesitation, before she does as she’s told. Unfortunately, even while she tries to grab and hold the dagger as tightly as possible, it doesn’t satisfy Maak and she hears how he sighs.  
“I said _wield it_ , not flop it around in your hand. Is that how you would hold it if you were going into battle?”

Frowning again, she tries to position herself a bit differently, pushing one of her feet back and holds the weapon out, trying to appear menacing. She’s not exactly used to standing around with a weapon for show. Whenever violence was required of her in the past, she simply stabbed at whatever she could reach.  
“Like this?”

“Hmph. Sloppy, but yes.”  
Jollain rolls her eyes. She’s not gonna have an easy time with this guy.  
“Now, let’s see what you can do with it. Try to hit me.”

Did she hear that correctly? Doesn’t seem right, at least. It makes her hesitate and she lingers in her current position.  
“Erm, what? You want me to strike you? With the dagger?”

“Is that not what I said?”

“But…with a real weapon? That’s dangerous.”

He stares at her, putting on as serious of an expression as he can muster without getting angry.  
“I won’t say it again after this; try to hit me. Either do as I say, or leave.”

With a deep sigh and quite a bit of trepidation, she approaches him, still unsure if this is a good idea. He must be testing her, right? Might be that he wants to see how far her resolve goes or maybe if she’s actually able to attack anyone. Or is he just going to display his superiority and disarm her now? That would suck.  
Despite all of her assumptions, she reaches out and tries to strike at him, but with a quick step and by angling his body back, he dodges the weapon. Jollain narrows her eyes, wondering what’s going on, but Maak-Veh doesn’t move against her. He waits for another attack.  
She delivers his wish and tries to hit him once more. And again…and again.

A couple of minutes passes by and for every few seconds, her blows become fiercer, albeit constantly randomized. At times, he actually lifts his arm to stop one of her strikes, but only to parry her arm, not the blade itself. He doesn’t take the weapon from her or counterattack. He simply remains in a defensive stance for the entire duration. Most of her slashes are blocked and the stabs are evaded.  
As she’s not actually used to this kind of activity, it doesn’t take all too long for her to get exhausted and she eventually stops to get some rest.

While she plants her hands against one of the nearby tables and stands there panting, the argonian has not moved much from his location, arms still behind his back.  
“Your moves are sluggish and ineffective. You put far too much power into each strike, making them useless. You lack finesse and precision.”  
For a moment, she glares up at him as her chest heaves with every breath.  
“And you tire too easily.”

“Yeah, thanks. I _totally_ hadn’t noticed.”

He appears unimpressed by her snide remark and shakes his head.  
“You’ll have a lot to train. I’m uncertain if it is really worth the effort at all.”

Hearing this seems to ignite something in her and she pushes herself up from the table. Maybe she’s out of breath and probably stands no chance at actually hitting him, but dammit, she won’t let him get away without at least messing with him once.  
Pulling at her remaining energy, she launches herself at him once more and he is, of course, ready to dodge or block her. Actually, she makes sure that it’s exactly what he expects and performs a couple of stunts that would make it appear that she’s just lashing out in anger. At one point, she launches a somewhat exaggerated overhead strike that she knows he’ll block with his arm.  
Just as planned, his arm moves into position and at that moment, she notices how his stomach is quite bare in terms of defenses. Of course it is, for why would he try to defend it? She only has one visible weapon.  
Seizing her only chance, she places her unarmed hand against his side, touching his scales. He just stares at her in disbelief, as if he wonders why in all Oblivion she’d try to do this.

What turns out to be even more satisfying is when his eyes widen in pain as he jumps backwards at the shock she sends through his skin from her hand. Quickly getting some space in between them, he places his own hand along the same spot, although realizes there’s no notable injuries.  
“What…what in the Emperor’s name was that?!”

Jollain lifts her left hand, revealing the palm and when she bends her fingers just a bit, small sparks of lightning appear from them. Not very large nor particularly impressive, but they exist nonetheless.  
“A little trick of mine.”

Maak peers at the hand doubtfully, then up at her eyes.  
“You’re a mage?”

She’s still out of breath and the effort took quite a bit of energy from her, so she has to retreat and lean against the table once more, this time with her back.  
“No, not really. I just know this one thing.”

The pain has subsided by now and he moves his arms to fold them.  
“That looked like magic to me, though.”

“Mm, one of my enchanting friends back in Cyrodiil said it was. Although, you know, unevolved and not very useful. It’s the only thing I can do.”

Maak stares at her, his gaze seemingly shifting between interest and suspicion.  
“How long have you been able to do that?”

She glances down at her hand, seeing how the sparks are gone by now. The use for it doesn’t last very long and needs a bit of recharge.  
“Since childhood, I guess? I’ve just always been able to."

It’s at this point that he seems to have decided upon an emotion and appears very intrigued.  
“I see. Why have you not trained with the Mages Guild?”

Jollain snorts, gazing at him as if it should be obvious.  
“Why do you think? That place isn’t exactly welcoming. When they say they train everyone, they mean everyone who can pay.”

There’s a bit of distance to his eyes while he nods. Perhaps he understands her perspective, or knows it very well.  
“You should mention this to Caius. Maybe he can arrange some sort of magical training for you to hone this skill as well.”

“Ugh, yeah, I guess. I had hoped this would be the only training I’d need to perform, but I suppose he has to know.”

She detects some sort of change to his eyes now. Amusement, maybe?  
“Your trick…I will admit that it surprised me.”

Jollain smirks, enjoying this sentiment a lot and she tries to make him aware by looking a little bit extra smug.  
“Yeah, I noticed. Hope it didn’t offend you.”

“Not at all. I like being surprised.”  
He doesn’t say this with a lot of enthusiasm. In fact, most of his words are spoken with some sort of monotone level to them.  
She’ll have to keep his statement in mind.

“Heh, if I had known that before, I’d have done it earlier.”

“That would have ruined my assessment of your skills, which would not be as useful to either of us. It is good that you waited. A surprise is at its best when one is completely closed to the possibility. The effectiveness expands at that point.”  
She has started to calm down now, watching him as he moves to the side and grabs two wooden swords.  
“You have intrigued me and I was too quick to judge. Perhaps you are worthy, after all.  
Now, put that dagger away.”

She widens her eyes when he suddenly lobs one of the swords at her. She instinctively drops the dagger and fumbles a bit with the wooden weapon before finally grasping it.  
“...uh, I guess this means you don’t want me to just try to stab at you wildly anymore?”

Maak-Veh rolls and turns his own sword around with ease, as if holding this tool in his hand is a natural process for him, like an extension of his arm.  
“A weapon training from the basics like this, will be arduous and slow. It will require you to work on it often, preferably every day and we must have several sessions, where I assess and hone your style, stances and preferred weapons.  
Are you ready to give yourself to such a vigorous process?”

Jollan gazes at him, while his eyes are locked onto her. She inspects the weapon, feeling its smooth surface against her skin and then throws it back and forth between each hand. What path is there to go, other than forward?  
“Yeah, I am.”

“Then let us begin.”


	6. Night's drifters

While Jollain would normally be eager to boast that she can handle herself at any time of the day when it comes to the type of tasks she usually engages in, she has to admit how preferable the night tends to be. Not like she has never screwed up once dark settles in over the land, but she can definitely claim to be more confident and self-assured of her success if the moons watch over her.  
Because of this, she also feels more comfortable moving around the city at this time, knowing she can avoid trouble much easier. Sure, it could also potentially provide more problems from people who think in similar ways, but she trusts that she would be able to avoid such encounters. She would never say that she’s the best at stealth, but she can’t remember ever having met anyone better. 

When Jollain reached out to the Thieves Guild and they gave her a location at night, she wasn’t particularly worried by it. Not only because she knows their methods, but also because she realized how they likely think along similar lines – if the meeting is a bust, it’s way easier to disappear.  
Despite having spent several days within Balmora by now, she still can’t say that she has gotten entirely used to its layout. The streets are easy to find and they’re not ridiculously overcrowded, but the design of buildings, alleyways and how irregularly Hlaalu guards appear to move is still something she’s going to have to work on. And where is she supposed to run in case she tries to escape the law? There’s apparently no sewers nor a lot of vegetation to hide behind. Perhaps the Guild can provide her with an alternative.

When she enters the designated alley in Labor Town, at the very edge of the district, it is conspicuously empty at first. She’s momentarily hesitant, wondering if she misread the directions provided to her or maybe she hasn’t quite understood the arrangement of the city as accurately as she might’ve hoped. Thankfully, these worries disperse soon after, being replaced by surprise when she hears a voice from above.

“Ah, and so she arrives.”  
Jollain turns her gaze up, seeing the contours of an individual in the shadows leaping down to the ground and lands a few meters away from her. The person coming closer is a little bit taller than her, but also somewhat more slenderly built. Jollain can see brown striped fur, without any visible mane, and a pair of dark eyes watching her. The body itself is protected by white-colored leather and a thick light brown belt at the waist. A long tail pokes out at the back, swinging back and forth as the khajiit studies her.  
“This one was skeptical whether you would actually dare to show yourself.”

Jollain does something similar, eyeing the other woman, before folding her arms.  
“Are you Sugar-Lips Habasi?”

Amusement shimmers over her features, before the khajiit slowly and confidently strolls closer, placing hands at her own hips.  
“I am, although I am not particularly fond of the ‘Sugar-Lips’ part that some of the colleagues have assigned to me. This one prefers to simply be called Habasi.”

“If you say so.”

“Habasi have heard of you as well, Jollain, and how you have been looking for us.”

There’s a somewhat humorous tone to her speech and Jollain can’t be sure whether she should take that as a threat or merely a curiosity. That’s perhaps one of the disadvantages of the night – people are often less trustworthy.  
“That’s why I asked to join, yeah.” 

She notices how Habasi’s tail keeps moving when she tries to evaluate Jollain and it’s hard to tell whether it’s good or not. She can’t say she has ever really studied the mannerisms of khajiit or thought much of it.  
“There have been certain rumors circulating your arrival. Some say that you are from the Imperial City side of the Guild.”

A rumor both created and spread by Caius, of course. The two of them discussed what the best method would be and he followed her recommendation of what would be most useful to convince people like this. She’s not an expert on Morrowind, but she knows thieves.  
For now, she tries to play it cool, keeping her tone even but confident. Well, as much as she’s able to at least.  
“That’s right, I used to be a member.”

“Used to be, hmm?”  
While she’s clearly still interested, the humor disappears for the moment and Jollain would guess that it’s being replaced by suspicion. She would be too, if the roles were reversed.  
“It is an interesting detail. This one knows we do not have much contact with the capital but, we never received a single word regarding any new recruits coming to us. It would have been preferable to at least inform us first.”

Jollain tries to laugh it off.  
“Yeah, sorry about that. Not really their fault, because it had more to do with personal problems of mine.  
I…ran into a little bit of a troublesome situation, let’s say, after a certain heist that I tried to pull off, without much help from the rest of the guild. Sadly, it failed and I acquired a lot of heat from the guards instead. Could’ve gone back to the Guild, obviously, but I realized that I’d only be bringing the shit to their door and that might jeopardize all of our operations. I found a ticket out of the city through a small merchant caravan and chose to flee. When I was later presented with alternatives, someone mentioned how there might be a lot of opportunities in Vvardenfell. Guess I could’ve gone elsewhere but, you know, this is what I do.”

Habasi continues to stare at her, watching the way she moves when she talks. Jollain hopes to remain as visibly self-assured as possible, which is why she maintains eye contact.  
“Not an unlikely story”, Habasi eventually comments, “but it still opens up for new questions. Have you been to Vvardenfell before? Do you know anything of the isle?”

She briefly shakes her head. No point in lying here.  
“Not really. I didn’t actually have a lot of time to think about it and anywhere seemed better than Cyrodiil.”

The khajiit snickers.  
“To arrive here with so little prior knowledge…Habasi believes you will have quite a journey ahead of you, little one.  
Adapting to life on the island is very different from the mainland, even more so compared to the capital. There is a lot of hardships for outlanders along almost every step of dunmer society and if you are afraid of competition, or unused to it, then this might be quite a harrowing experience. You may wish to reconsider.”

Jollain raises a hand to scratch at her neck.  
“Well, guess I can’t deny the fact that we didn’t have much in terms of competition back home but, that doesn’t mean I’m unused to challenges. I had rivals in the Guild who sometimes were more than happy to take a job from me, even more so if they wanted to steal my place in the organization. And then there’s the Imperial Watch, who are almost unmatched in the rest of Tamriel. They are not an easy target and I’ve managed to escape them several times.”

Habasi’s features soften somewhat and she nods in recognition of these feats.  
“This one has heard of their prowess and how notorious they are for opposing the Guild wherever we try to expand. Likely has to do with the lack of other organizations doing the same thing.  
That said, we require more than just experience of the streets. We are mostly interested in skills and merits, to understand what you might be able to provide. What do you know?”

Taking a deep breath, she begins to work through her memories of what she has done and how she might make them interested. She hasn’t ever been forced to provide a resume when it comes to work in the shadows. She either cooperated with people she knew or those who had heard of her.  
“Uh, well, I’ve done a lot of things, I guess. I’m pretty good at stealth, lockpicking, pickpocketing and burglaries – those are the four fields I’ve had most experience in and chances to develop.”

“Any particular event that Habasi might have heard of?”

“Probably not. I was never involved in anything big, nor do I have a major heist in my bag. I tend to focus on small to medium-sized runs, to make enough drakes that I’d be safe for a while. Survival was more important to me than an abundance of riches. That shit can get you killed.  
Oh, and uh, also not used to smuggling and robberies. I’m not the fighting kind of lady, nor the business type.”

Habasi nods knowingly.  
“Stay in the shadows?”

“Exactly.” 

“Well, at least you and I may have a few things in common then.  
Ever been caught?”

The inevitable question that all people of their profession needs to ask. Most would either be vague, boast or outright lie in this occasion, but Jollain sees no point. Instead, she clears her throat and diverts her gaze.  
“…a couple of times.”

Surprisingly, the khajiit merely laughs.  
“You’re honest, at least. Habasi likes that.”  
Jollain can’t help but smile then. If she does have this sense of humor and a more lenient look on her fellow members, perhaps the two of them will get along.  
“Show me what gear you have.” 

Putting her hands to her clothes, Jollain begins to feel around to see what she actually brought.  
“Well uh, I don’t have my entire kit but, you know, I tend to travel pretty lightly anyway. Got a dagger on me tonight and a couple of knives. Depending on the heist, I usually attach a rolled-up bag to my belt, some lockpicks and maybe a rope if I have to climb.”

“Outfit?”

“Just clothes and light shoes. Doesn’t take a lot of impact if I have to jump, but they make much less noise.”

Habasi arches an eyebrow.  
“No armor?”

Jollain smiles wryly.  
“In case I get stabbed, you mean? Well, I prefer to avoid that scenario.  
To be honest, even leather usually makes a little bit too much noise for my taste. A tight shirt, pants, light shoes and maybe a jacket works best. Then again, it also depends on the environment. If I know I’m going into trouble, I’ll probably wear some protection.”

Her reasoning earns a brief nod from Habasi.  
“This one can see where you’re coming from and your logic is good enough for me. At least you know what you’re doing and because of this, I am willing to give you a shot.  
However, what you must understand is that we do not simply let anyone in without making them prove themselves first.”

“Heh, sounds like you and the capital do things in the same way.”

“In that sense, we do. We have to know how capable our members are, after all.”

Jollain inclines her head and wanders over to the nearby wall, leaning her back against it.  
“Well, I’m ready to do my best. Tell me what you need.”

As she remains on the side, Habasi starts to pace in the middle, their eyes not meeting anymore. The whole conversation has been spoken in a fairly quiet tone so far and this continues. Thankfully, there’s very little noise in the nearby sections anyhow.  
“Habasi has a specific test in mind, but first, you must know a little bit more of Vvardenfell.  
Tell me, have you heard anything of Camonna Tong yet?”

That obviously came up several times during the conversations she had with Caius and he has already assigned her to find out more. Best to feign ignorance, though.  
“I’ve heard the name, yeah. Came up in the first conversation I had with anyone in this region. Don’t know much about them, though.”

“They are a local…guild, you might say, similarly to us. Although, ‘crime syndicate’ may be a more appropriate term, because they are more than simple thieves. They operate on multiple fields, more than us, and our methods are very different from theirs.  
They tend to focus on smuggling, extortion, skooma trade and slavery. They do dabble in thievery and burglaries, but it’s not really of any great interest. To get this done, they mix in a lot more violence than we do and are not afraid to even utilize assassinations if necessary. Assault is still their foremost tool, however.”

Jollain’s features show clear signs of worry, which is actually genuine, as even if she knows most of this already, she can’t deny how discouraging it is to hear it from someone in the middle of it all.  
“Shit. Sounds more like a gang than a guild.”

“Indeed. On top of this, they _despise_ us, the outlanders or ‘n’wah’ as they call us. This includes not only foreigners, but any non-dunmer in general. All of their members are natives and they would never consider otherwise. Naturally, they have much less scruples than our guild does.”

The bosmer shakes her head and frowns.  
“Well, I have heard some people mutter words like that during the few days I’ve been here. Good to know that I wasn’t wrong about the nature of it.  
But, I don’t get how they can be allowed to do that. I mean, the Imperial Watch cracks down hard on any kind of thievery. How can assassination and slavery not be met with even fiercer suppression?” 

Habasi sighs.  
“Tradition. Not so much with the killing, but rather the slavery.  
Not only is Camonna friends with some of the local institutions – particularly House Hlaalu, who are in charge of Balmora – but slavery is a long running tradition among the dunmer. It is heavily endorsed to do this day by House Telvanni and House Dres on the mainland has it as their main business. There are elements of slavery which are illegal as well, but it is hit with much less restrictions. Camonna themselves tend to be slave hunters.”

“And no one tries to stop them?”

“Well, they are not without opposition. The Imperial Legion and the local guards do fight both them and us, but the latter are more likely to direct most of their attention on our guild. We are the foreign presence and most view us unfavorably for that reason.”

Jollain turns her gaze towards the end of the alley, where the streets continue along the rest of the city.  
“And the Legion doesn’t give you any respite? I mean, since we’re both ‘outlanders’.”

“Ah, well, I suppose it's fifty-fifty. They do dislike Camonna more than us, but they also realize how the Guild represents a ‘bad imperial impression’, which is how many dunmer institutions view us and the Legion does not want to be associated with that. This is why then tend to hit us hard in order to show they are different.”

Internally, Jollain wants to laugh. It is funny to her that she gets to hear this, especially since she knows more of the other side. If only the Guild knew how much support they actually have…  
“Well, I’ll make sure to watch myself no matter what type of armor the guards wear then.”

“That would probably be wise, yes.  
At any rate, to prove yourself, you will have to get involved with a small…let’s call it a heist, which we’ve got planned fairly soon.  
We intend to strike at one of the buildings belonging to Camonna, in the outskirts of the city.”

“Right. What kind of ‘strike’ are we talking about, though?”

Habasi smirks at her.  
“Worried that we will be attacking it? Don’t be, we’re still the _Thieves_ Guild. We leave battles to the Fighters. That said, there will certainly be some action involved.  
We’re after a particular item which they have got stored away. There’s a small box in one of the offices of that building; it contains documents that we need.”

Jollain raises her brow skeptically.  
“Documents?”

“Yes, ones that provide them some leniency from House Hlaalu. Camonna may have support from quite a few members of that house, but it doesn’t mean they shy away from blackmail when necessary. Our goal is to attain them so that we can utilize those papers for the same reason.”

“You think they’ll know that we’re coming for them?”

“Hopefully not, but we can never be entirely certain. Habasi has helped with the planning for this heist for weeks and we have been very silent when it comes to how many know what we’re actually doing. Usually, this one would not involve a rookie but, my investigation into your background beforehand did not show anything worrying.”

She probably shouldn’t be surprised that the Guild would try to do that sort of thing, but she is impressed how quickly they work. If Jollain hadn’t tried to contact Caius as soon as she had arrived, that might’ve made them a little bit suspicious.  
“Well, I hope to be able to prove that I’m exactly who you need.”

“As do I. Habasi will be watching you intensely during that night, little one. Even if you do not succeed perfectly, I might still consider giving you the chance if you display just how useful your skills can be to us.”


	7. Heist

Another night, another event in the new city, the town that Jollain now calls home.  
But no, it’s not just another night, is it? This is her first big show, her first test, to prove that she capable of the kind of feats she has promised, both to the guild and herself. Interestingly, she’s not even inside of Balmora, as the actual task they’ve got prepared happens outside of it.

One of the most immediate sensations that Jollain gets when she’s given orders for how to proceed is that she feels somewhat out of place, like she doesn’t belong. This is a pretty big heist, with at least a dozen people involved and she can’t recall ever attending anything like this before. She has been in a few medium-sized raids in the past, with a team of a handful of people and she has certainly targeted larger structures than this two-story house. It’s just that, this time around, she suddenly feels like she’s not as vital as she would be in a smaller group and yet if she fails, a lot more lives will be on her conscience. Well, unless someone helps her out, that is.

The only relief she gets here is that she at least has a pretty clear assignment. As she climbs over a section of the surrounding wall in the dark, her goal is to head towards the back of the building and find some way to reach the upper level.  
The team is apparently split into three – the distractors, the infiltrators and the organizers. The first group stages obvious diversions to get the guards to leave, the infiltrators will attempt to get inside the building and find their so-called ‘loot’, while the last group makes sure that everyone stays focused, hands out warnings and assists either of the two groups if they need it. 

The most surprising and worrying aspect to Jollain isn’t that the group of Camonna Tong members in this building are trained fighters, but that they apparently have a couple of mages too, which sounds pretty bad. How did they even manage that? Mages tend to prefer being among themselves and therefore create factions like the Mages Guild, House Telvanni, or that mysterious Psijic Order around Summerset. Why would any of them choose to work with Camonna over any of those factions?  
Then again, perhaps they have no choice, like Jollain. Perhaps they’ve had to learn through Camonna and stay indebted to them. Wouldn’t surprise her, really, from everything she has heard of this organization.

Another concern she has is how loose the plan is. Apparently, the distraction will be staged and then the infiltrators, the group which she’s in together with three others, will simply have to run inside and hope for the best. Habasi’s explanation was a bit more detailed than that, but it was the general feeling that Jollain received from what she was told. Not very encouraging at all. What happens if Camonna gets ahold of them? Will they just kill any guild members, or capture them for ransom? She’s not sure which is worse.

Jollain has never claimed to be an expert climber, but she knows a thing or two about it, much thanks to experience. She has had to do some pretty desperate things when running from guards in the past, even if they weren’t all successful. Thankfully, when she finds herself around the back-wall of the building, she sees that there’s a few outcroppings and handles that she can jump and grab onto. This isn’t going to be a smooth ride, but she never expected it to be either.

Before the distraction has even started, Jollain has already reached the outside of the second level, and she drags herself to the edge of an open window. Seems these people need a bit of fresh air like anyone else and this house certainly allows for it, a stark contrast to the apartments back in Labor Town.  
From within, she can hear voices, the dunmer guards talking to one another. She hears the mentioning of names and places that she’s not familiar with, but it matters little. The main concern for her is to determine how many different people she can distinguish. She gets to five, which is not a comforting number. All of these guards better leave during the diversion, or she’s gonna be pretty screwed. Her training with Maak-Veh has only just started and she hasn’t become good enough to compare herself to a proper fighter. Then again, these are thugs at best.

Taking the opportunity while she’s up here anyway, she tries to hop over to another window and get a feel for how large the corridors are. A short investigation seems to indicate that they’re not big, probably not enough space for more than one person at a time at most, possibly two. The roof is also not particularly tall, which means that any acrobatic tricks to hide won’t be useful.  
She’s kinda skeptical if she can sneak through here without being noticed. Will she simply have to be quick, running from room to room? Probably doesn’t matter. Whether she will or not, this is her one chance to properly prove herself. Fail here and maybe she won’t have to say goodbye to the Thieves Guild, but she’ll have to appease them in some other way, which will require a lot of ass-kissing. She’d prefer to succeed on the first try and have them start to rely on her instead.

Her thoughts are suddenly disrupted when she hears an explosion in the distance. That must be the distraction and a pretty impressive one too. She’s not the only one who hears it, obviously, and several people run out from their stations and head down to the front of the house. Jollain doesn’t even wait to see how many from her level disappear, as she climbs into the room with the only open window. She waits by the doorway for a few seconds, trying to discern whether the corridor outside is free to use, before proceeds.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to scout much, as the Guild had already completed some legwork ahead of time. She eventually arrives in the correct location, the room where she’ll find the items they wish to attain.  
The first thing she notices is how this place looks sort of like an office, with a desk, chairs, a workbench and loads of paper stacks. In addition, there are lots of boxes everywhere, in piles. This is the last thing she wanted to see, as she doesn’t know the exact description for the one she’s searching for. It should be large enough to contain documents, but that could be anything. 

Trying to rule out a few options, she approaches the desk, as she figures that anything important should be stored here. It appears that her conclusion is also the correct one, as when she starts to open the drawers and checks each one, she finds only one box, which also looks feasibly large enough to hold documents. It’s a slightly longer and slimmer dark wooden box, with intricate silver lines sprawled over its length. The lock is of some kind of metal with no key within sight. Doesn’t matter, as she only needs the box itself. When she shakes it, she can definitely hear something within, probably thin and light. This has to be it, right? It’s not like she’ll have time to rummage through the entire place anyway.

Before she can make a decision either way, she suddenly hears noises from behind, sounding like footsteps and she turns around just in time to come face-to-face with a figure she had hoped would stay distracted.  
In the doorway, Jollain sees a grey-skinned female dunmer, with black hair held in a short ponytail. Both sides of her head are shaved, though, making the hair stay around the middle. Her eyes are a fairly light red and her build is quite a muscular one. Currently, she’s adorned with some kind of heavy armor, possibly iron or steel. On her back, Jollain can see the handle of a two-handed weapon, probably an axe. There’s also two short blades hanging from her belt. She’s very tall too, much more so than Jollain and even most people she has met thus far. Why in Oblivion did she have to run into the biggest goddamn dark elf on the island on her first mission?

“Well well”, the dunmer says, with a deep voice and a dry tone, “I figured it might be a good idea to leave someone behind. Glad I didn’t ask anyone else to do it. Seems one little scrib got past us after all.” 

Jollain tries to smile innocently and even if it’s too late, she hides the box behind her.  
“Uh, what? Scrib? Sorry, friend, think you’ve got the wrong person.” 

The other woman is not impressed and merely glares at her. Shortly after, she gives the room a quick glance.  
“And what’s this? Not only did the fetcher enter our office, but also hasn’t taken any of the valuables within? Interesting. Not just a common thief, then.”

Jollain tries to laugh it off, while she tosses the box up into the air and catches it again.  
“What, this little thing? Oh, I just uh…you know, liked the decoration. Kinda fancy, right? Must be worth a fortune to someone.”

She hears a snort from the guard, before she points at something on another table.  
“More than the golden statuette of Almalexia?”

Jollain blinks and her gaze follows into the same direction. There is certainly a piece like that in the corner, and a rather intricate one at that. How come she didn’t notice it earlier?  
“Oh. Shit. Well, uh, obviously I saw that one before but…y’know, I thought it was fake.”

It appears she has neither impressed nor convinced the guard, who now raises a hand up to the hilt of her weapon.  
“You can’t fool me, s’wit. I know you’re with the Thieves Guild. No point in pretending otherwise.”

“Weeell…I guess that depends on how you define a member. _Technically_ , I haven’t joined them. Yet.”

“I don’t care what you call it. You’re stealing in their name and that makes you one of theirs. Either way, you’re not leaving this room tonight.” 

Okay, perhaps it’s time to stop trying to trick her. It’s not like it’ll help in this situation. The Imperial Guard rarely bought her lies either.  
Instead, she angles her head back and forth, letting her eyes search the relative darkness of the room.  
“I dunno about that. Think I can find a couple of gaps to slip past ya.”

The dunmer holds her hand at the hilt still, but she hasn’t yet pulled it out, which Jollain finds intriguing. Why wouldn’t she try to intimidate her with a weapon to the face? That’s what they did in the capital.  
“You have one chance to surrender, fetcher, before I take you in by force.”

She’s definitely an intimidating sight and most people would probably not be encouraged to face this type of person. Luckily, Jollain has ran away from larger ones. Her lips curl into a small smirk.  
“Sorry, babe, I like to have some fun on the first date.”

The tension grows between the two, as they stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, waiting for the other to make the first move. The one who does is more likely to make a mistake. Fortunately, the guard turns out to be the least patient and she launches herself against the bosmer, trying to grab onto her arm. Jollain, being as limber and quick as she is, dances out of the grip and turns around. She runs behind the desk, keeping it between them. She knows it’s a decent plan, because the guard desperately tries to get around to her, rather than go over the desk, probably due to the valuables on top of it. 

Yet again, a contest is started of who can last the longest without making a faulty move, and once more, Jollain comes out as the victor. The dunmer jumps after her, but Jollain dodges and then makes a leap backwards, which takes her in the direction of the opening. As soon as she creates some distance between them, she doesn’t wait and makes her escape.  
“Come back here!”, she hears the guard yelling as she dashes out from the room.  
“She’s up here! There’s a thief on the upper level!”

At first, Jollain is pretty glad, as she assumes this was a foolish move. All of the other guards should be elsewhere now, trying to deal with whatever distractions that the rest of the team has concocted. Unfortunately, she underestimates the guards’ vigilance and intelligence, because as soon as she reaches the stairs, she has to immediately retract from them when she notices two dunmer running up.  
Jollain groans in annoyance and changes tactics, trying to reach the same room where she entered. She doesn’t really feel like jumping out the window, but what other option does she have?  
The second plan is no more successful than the first, as she is faced with the initial dunmer already having reached that section of the corridor and now blocks it off.

“End of the line, thief”, she tells Jollain, while glaring at her.  
“Hand over the box or-“

She doesn’t even have time to end the sentence, before the bosmer makes a drastic decision and leaps into one of the small side-rooms, closing the door and locking it behind her. Her surroundings go dark and she hears how the guards outside slam themselves against it, even if they’re too late to reach it before she shuts them out.  
Jollain tries to use what little stuff she can find in here, pushing boxes and equipment towards the entrance, hoping it will be enough. All she can really do in here is buy herself time before…  
Well, what is her plan from this stage? The room she has ended up in now is pretty small and seems to be utilized for storage. That means it has one pretty fatal flaw.

“Get out here, fetcher”, she hears the same guard saying on the outside. They’ve stopped hammering on the door now.  
“I know there’s no window in there. You’re trapped like a rat and won’t easily be able to slip out of this one. If you surrender the box to us peacefully, we might be lenient. No more than jailtime, I swear.”

Shit, she should’ve thought this through, shouldn’t she? Perhaps fighting them off would’ve been a better move than getting herself locked in here. If she turns them down, they’ll eventually bash the door open and get to her anyway. Being stabbed in the corner of a dark room and bleeding to death isn’t exactly her favorite way to end. However, being captured by violent and pretty vengeful rivals to the Thieves Guild isn’t exactly an option she’d like to consider either. 

“Got any other offers? Never been a fan of prison, personally.”

The guards outside scoff.  
“Yeah, sure – a quick death. Those are the only two options you have. No one steals from Camonna and gets away with it, something that the outlanders should’ve told you.”

Jollain starts to feel her clothes, trying to see if there was anything she brought with her, anything that can help her out in a bind. Nope, nothing of importance or that would make a difference here. She certainly has weapons, but she needs to be smart when wielding those, and three Camonna guards are surely resilient enough to take her down. She doesn’t know for sure, but she can make an educated guess.  
“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem here. You’re not giving me a great deal.”

Unfortunately, it appears that the other woman is now getting impatient, which is initiated after a sigh.  
“Look, either you open this door right now, or I’m going to carve it open and then keep slicing. I promise you that a small scrib like yourself won’t last for long.”

Well, at least if she chooses that end, it might go quickly. Although, is a quick death any better than a slow one, if she’s gonna die anyway? She’d prefer to stay alive for a little while longer. Dammit, why didn’t she consider the Guild’s plan and question it somewhat beforehand? Perhaps she could’ve suggested going another path.  
The only option presented to her now is charisma and guile. It’s not a good plan, certainly not something she’d ever consider unless she was desperate, which happens to be the case at this very moment.

“Wait! Okay, I…I’ll open the door and hand the box back to you. But I’ll only do it to…erm, what was your name? The first one I met?”

There’s a bit of silence for a second or two, before she hears someone exhaling.  
“Tayerise.”

“Tayerise”, she repeats, finding it rolls off the tongue pretty nicely.  
“I’ll only do it for you, okay? Please, I’m…I’m scared, and I-I don’t want to die in here.”

She tries to enhance this sensation and play it up. Luckily, it does appear to work, as Tayerise sounds sort of defeated.  
“Alright, I’ll do it. But no tricks, alright? I’ll be watching you.”

“I swear.”

“In fact, take off your weapons. Drop them on the ground. Do it now.”

Jollain takes a deep breath, but figures she has to follow along the plan to proceed with the act. She doesn’t just unsheathe her daggers, but actively drops them from a height, so that those outside can hear the metal hitting the floor and then kicks them away.  
“I’ve done it. They’re in a corner now. It’s only me, the box and the door.”

“Good. Unlock it and I’ll come inside.”

Another breath, this one slower, in order to collect herself. This needs to be done correctly, or she’s screwed. Keep your cool, Jollain, or you’ll either be dead or in another cell by the end of the night. That’s what she tells herself, anyway. She has a feeling that it will be worse than a repeat of the events in the imperial city.

Shortly after, she unlocks the door and takes a step back. She lets Tayerise walk inside, enough so that she’s at least a couple of meters away from the two guards on the outside. Both of those are watching the entire event with a doubtful look.  
“Please, come closer”, Jollain says softly and temptingly.

Tayerise stops for a moment, eyeing her suspiciously.  
“Spin around. I want to see that you have no weapons.”  
It’s dark in here, but the torch on the outside of the room provides some illumination. Jollain nods and does as she’s told, making a full turn until the dunmer can see that there’s truly no visible weapons on her.  
“Alright, now give me the box.”

Jollain closes the distance between them, but instead of being careful, she leans all the way in, pushing herself against the guard. Tayerise widens her eyes in surprise, thinking an attack will occur anyway, but that is not Jollain’s intention.  
Instead, she looks up, places a hand on the dunmer’s chest and gazes pleadingly into her eyes.  
“Please, don’t let them punish me. Don’t let them hurt me. I…I promise I’ll be good.”

She tries to put on the most innocent expression she can think of, resting herself against Tayerise in a vulnerable position, almost like she needs her. Tayerise doesn’t just appear shocked by this change of heart, but also somewhat flustered. She clears her throat before responding rather quietly.  
“Erm, I guess I can do my best.” 

“Please, I don’t think I’ll last for long if they torture me.”

“I swear, I won’t let them do that to you.”

Jollain offers her a sweet smile and then raises her arms to wrap them around Tayerise’s neck to hug her.  
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

The sensation she gets from Tayerise is that she’s very tense and stiff, and it’s not clear if it’s due to being uncomfortable or uncertain in this position. However, shortly after, she returns the embrace. It’s not an entirely unwelcome notion, especially as Jollain feels how this lady smells pretty nice. Too bad she can’t stick around much longer.  
As Tayerise has now exposed herself, Jollain places a hand gently against her neck and whispers.

“Sorry about this. Might sting a bit.”

“Wha-“

Is all the dunmer manages to express, before Jollain sends a jolt of lightning into her skin, with enough power behind it that Tayerise’s body shivers and goes numb, falling to the ground almost immediately. Jollain gets out of the way to allow it to happen, which unfortunately produces more than enough noise for the other guards to overhear.  
When they try to enter the room however, Jollain has already pulled out one of the short swords from Tayerise’s belt, and lobs it straight at the first one. Not much of a plan, but it’s something, and luckily, quite successful too, as it lodges itself in the lower end of his gut.

When he retreats, the last one pulls out his own sword, with Jollain now practically being unarmed, he thinks to finish her before this can get much worse. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to pull off any special stunts, as her three team members have arrived at the right second in order to assist her. One of them has a bow, and shoots an arrow straight into the guard’s back, making him stumble to the floor in pain.  
“You got the box, rookie? C’mon, let’s get outta here!”, they tell her.

Jollain quickly returns the daggers to her belt and gives Tayerise on the ground one last look.  
“Sorry about the trick. Hope you’ll understand.”

She doesn’t wait around for a response, as she escapes with the rest of the thieves and they flee into the night. This wasn’t exactly a perfect first mission, but it’s a success nonetheless. She feels how vigor returns to her and a sensation of hope. Maybe she can survive in Vvardenfell after all.


	8. Diminishing returns

It’s interesting to Jollain how quickly things can change with a little bit of time. When she first received this assignment and Baurus was giving her the details, she never would’ve trusted any words that said she’ll get used to it, that she’ll come to understand and grow comfortable in an entirely new setting. She had lived her entire life in one location, within the humongous capital city of the Empire. How can anything else ever compare to it?

And yet now, today, she can be fairly honest if she claims that she feels like Balmora isn’t all too bad and how she probably has gotten settled into her quarters after all. Not only has she decorated the apartment and made it homelier from her point of view, she’s able to find the right vendors she wants for various items, has managed to create a couple of contacts in various places – especially one of the bartenders at the South Wall cornerclub – and knows of a few quick routes out of the city, should she need to use them. Everything isn’t perfect, but it’s certainly better than it should’ve been by her own estimations. 

Recently, she has been invited into the Thieves Guild after a successful first mission several nights ago and they were apparently really impressed, especially Habasi. A couple of people have asked about the Imperial City’s section and while she couldn’t answer too many questions, it seems pretty clear that her past doesn’t really matter. It’s the here and now, her current skills, which matter the most. She appreciates that point of view and she hopes to live by it. 

Sure, everything isn’t perfect yet. She hasn’t been able to shake off the snide remarks she gets from some of the locals, the ones using certain unpleasant words. Some of that probably has to do with the fact that, while she has learned of her tasks, she doesn’t fully know all the customs yet, the way to make herself not stand out in a crowd all too much. Certain ones work well, especially when she’s around other ‘outlanders’, but that doesn’t last for long among too many natives, no matter if they’re dunmer or not. She hopes to find a middle ground at some point, to improve and learn. The prospect of living here does at least appear a lot more reasonable now.

At this time, she’s standing close to one of the two tables she has in her apartment, or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a bench. When she decided to get some furniture, she ordered one small table for eating and one bench for cooking. She tends to go down to the cornerclub to order food anyway, as it’s fairly cheap, but she takes the opportunity to eat at home when she can.  
Currently, she’s cooking something in the iron pot she bought for this purpose. She can’t really do much else than stews and soups here but, thankfully, that’s kind of her thing. Jollain won’t lie, as she certainly wishes they had more fish available in Balmora, which is an ingredient she was most used to and fond of back home, having grown up in a city surrounded by water. That said, there’s still a fairly decent range of other materials to make something tasty. Well, as tasty as her mediocre skills can make it. 

Pretty recently, she received her first proper payment from Caius, which may not have been a humongous amount, but something she found…refreshing and comforting. In the past, she had to fight for her drakes and she never knew exactly when she’d get them. It all depended on what haul she would receive from the runs they’d do against some kind of establishment and how much of the goods she could sell to various fences. She feels like there’s finally some kind of safety in her life, despite the dangers that are expected of her to perform. No matter how far she succeeds, at least she’ll have these regular distributed coins that will go into her pockets and that’s a freedom she hadn’t anticipated. A measure of control is within her grasp, despite being controlled at the same time.

Putting a spoon down into the boiling meal, she lifts some of it to have a taste, sipping at the hot liquid that enters her mouth. Definitely gives her a little bit of a burn, but she doesn’t care. It is fairly good but, could use a some more spices.  
Just when she reaches for a small container of a local mixture, she’s stopped by a knock on her door. She turns and looks towards it almost questioningly. Who could that be? She isn’t expecting anyone, as far as she knows, and neither of her two Blades contacts would approach her like this. 

“Uh, who is it?”, she calls to whomever is on the other side. Her apartment isn’t big, which means that she’ll easily be heard by slightly raising her voice.

A few seconds go by, until a deeper voice answers on the other side.  
“Delivery.”

Delivery? She doesn’t remember ordering anything, which confuses her. Is there even anything in this city that actually provides such a service? Feels like it wouldn’t be worth it. Or maybe it’s a courier? Could be some new roundabout way that Caius is using, even if they do have dead drops.  
At this point, she kinda wishes that her home had windows to the front, rather than the back, or that she had created some kind of holes to peek through in the door, but she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Perhaps it’s best to take a look then.

Unfortunately, this decision is one that she would later come to regret.  
As she strolls up to the door, unlocks it and creates a small gap for her to gaze into, her eyes widen immediately when she realizes her mistake.  
“No!”, she exclaims instinctively as she attempts to close the door, but it is too late.

The person on the outside is not about to let this occur and seems to have had the foresight to know what Jollain might do. A foot pokes inside the gap, where a heavy boot stops the door from shutting completely. A few seconds later, someone puts a hand on the surface of it and pushes it open. Light from the outside penetrates the room and Jollain stands face-to-face with the tall and large figure of Tayerise. Not only does she force herself inside, she also glares at the bosmer. Around the same time, Jollain backs off further into her apartment, arms raised, and eyes widened in fear. She realizes that she’s in some pretty deep shit right now, with no escape route. She hadn’t really planned one for her own home.

How would the dunmer even have found her? She doesn’t recall leaving a trail or anything for anyone to follow. Did someone set her up? Could it be that someone is trying to get revenge on her? That seems ridiculously elaborate and hard to believe. She shouldn’t have any enemies in Vvardenfell yet, and even if she may have had rivals in the Imperial City, it seems virtually impossible for them to both have known that she’d leave the capital and send someone go after her. No, this has to be something else. Could this lady simply be that observant?

She doesn’t actually tell Tayerise any of these things. Instead, she waits.  
“You weren’t easy to find”, the dunmer states evenly, despite looking rather pissed off.

Jollain clears her throat awkwardly, hoping that’s a good sign.  
“Uh, yeah, guess so. Listen, let’s stay calm, okay? I…I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, _fetcher_ ”, Tay responds, and her tone is now getting somewhat more vicious. “You know why I’m here. Did you think I forgot about you?”

While Jollain chuckles, she definitely notices her own nervous tone.  
“Oh, erm, that little thing? C’mon…it was nothing personal, you know that, right? I promise, I was only doing what the guild told me. Wasn’t my choice.”

Tay takes another step closer, with Jollain instinctively continuing to move backwards.  
“Doesn’t matter. You still did what you did and caused a lot of harm.”

“O-okay! Okay, you’re right, I did. But that’s…in the past, right? How can I make up for it? What do you want?”

She doesn’t get any immediate verbal response, as Tay continues to glare at her for a few seconds, until she gets distracted. Her eyes start to wander, searching for something which Jollain can’t quite determine. When she isn’t satisfied by simply standing here, the dunmer shifts towards physical measures instead and examines the living quarters more directly. 

She starts by inspecting the cooking corner, giving the materials and tools a quick glance, but the stew doesn’t really interest her. Jollain practically breathes out in relief. Perhaps she’ll still have a meal to look forward to. Hopefully not her last one either.  
After that, she moves on to the table and the few items hanging from her wall, checking behind and under them. Tay probably hadn’t expected any findings there, but she seemingly wants to be thorough.  
It’s when she finally arrives at the cabinet and the bed that things take a turn for the nastier. She doesn’t just open them without asking, but starts rummaging around, throwing things out on the floor, while clearly looking for something specific. Jollain doesn’t appreciate it and she won’t stand for it.

“Hey!”, she calls out while closing the distance. “Stop it! You can’t just throw my stuff around like this!”  
Tay doesn’t stop, however, continuing to create quite a mess. Eventually, Jollain frowns and grabs her arm, trying to do her best to physically prevent the dunmer from going any further.  
“Will you listen to me?! You can’t just trash my apartment, dammit!”

Tay tries to ignore her, struggling against any such measures.  
“Let me go”, she simply states, without so much as looking at the other woman.

“No, I won’t, not until you stop! What could you possibly want in here anyway? I don’t have anything of value!”  
Well, that’s not entirely true, but she doesn’t have much at least. Not much that anyone can find at a simple glance.

Eventually, Tay has enough and turns on her heel rather sharply, letting her red eyes lock into the brown ones of the bosmer. It happens so swiftly that Jollain winces.  
“Where is it?!”, she asks, rather loudly as well.

Not being as sure anymore, with a small bit of fear rising, Jollain’s own voice is much smaller.  
“W-where is what?”

“The documents, of course, you fool! Where did you hide them?!”

Oh, of course. That’s obviously what she would be looking for, but Jollain quickly grows rather confused by this question.  
“Wait a minute, the documents? You mean from…that office?”

Tay groans in frustration.  
“Yes, the bloody office documents! What other fucking papers would I be looking for?!”

“Okay, okay!”, Jollain says, while raising her hand defensively.  
“I-I don’t know why you came here to look for them. I don’t have anything stored in my house. That would be kinda dumb.”

“Then where are they?!”

“Uh, I dunno. The Guild probably has them hidden away somewhere.”

Tay folds her arms and stands up a bit straighter.  
“You’re a member of the Thieves Guild, which I’m more than certain of now. Do you not have any clue where they would be stored?”

Jollain raises a hand, scratching it at the back of her head.  
“Well, no. I’m not privy to that kind of info.”

“Then who is?”

“Habasi, I guess? She’s in charge of the local section of the Guild in Balmora. She was also the one who organized the heist.”  
Some might say this is pretty compromising information, but she figures not a lot of people would care. Camonna probably knows of Habasi already, and they still don’t have any tangible evidence against her. The statement of one member isn’t much in the eyes of the legal system.  
Tay glances around searchingly, probably considering what she should do. After a few seconds, she shifts the location of one hand, grabbing ahold of Jollain’s left arm and then tries to drag her towards the door. Obviously, she won’t let this happen without protest.  
“Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to confront this Habasi.”

“Okay, but why do I have to come?”

“Because I’m going to make her give me the documents. You will be what I bargain with.”

Yeah, that’s probably something she should’ve figured, but not an aspect Jollain enjoys, which is why she immediately continues her struggles.  
“What? Are you crazy?  
What’s the plan here? Are you gonna kill me if Habasi doesn’t give you the papers?”

That’s when Tay stops and there’s only a moment of hesitation on her features, before she sighs and turns to look at Jollain.  
“I never said that.”

“Maybe, but that’s what it sounds like to me. I’m not an object and you can’t just trade me off for whatever you want.”

“And no one has claimed that you are, but this can still work. Unless Habasi agrees, I will take you away and use you as a hostage until she gives me what I want.” 

Hostage? Okay, that would be a first. She has never actually been considered important enough for that sort of thing, which almost makes it interesting. Almost. Instead, she sighs.  
“What? Tayerise…can I call you that?  
Do you realize how foolish this is? Why would Habasi agree to terms like that? Why do you think she would care?”

Tay watches her with a slight bit of confusion and arches her brow.  
“Excuse me? Are you saying that Habasi would not care about one of her precious Guild members? That’s not what I have come to know of your organization, not when it’s important anyway.”

What she says sounds rather sinister. Does Tay herself disapprove of such measures, or is she not used to it from Camonna? It’s disturbing either way.  
“Okay, yeah, probably, but I’m a new member from the Imperial City. I hardly even know most of these people, and they haven’t come to expect much of me yet. You really think they’d turn over like, the most important documents they can ever get ahold of at this point, in exchange for a recruit? You really think I’m worth that much? I mean, thanks, but you’re being kinda naive.”

If she should be honest, Jollain doesn’t know how Habasi would react. The khajiit seems like a nice leader to have, but the two of them haven’t gotten close enough for her to fully understand how the leader operates. However, at this moment, it’s probably better to lie than to give Tay hope.  
The dunmer looks skeptical at first, until her gaze dips into some anger again.  
“I am _not_ naive”, she says, while she pushes Jollain away and turns towards the interior of the apartment again.  
“Perhaps you’re not even telling me the truth. Maybe you really do have the documents here and you’re just trying to throw me off.”

She takes a few steps inside, but Jollain is there to stop her this time and puts her hands at Tay’s abdomen, hoping to prevent her from proceeding. It’s not like she could do that if the dunmer really wanted to trash her apartment, but she’d kinda like for it to stay whole.  
“Hey, c’mon, you know I don’t! That would just be dumb.  
I get it, you want those documents, but can we talk about this? Why do you want them? Why are they so important? It’s just a bunch of papers and it shouldn’t affect anyone but your leadership, right? You’re just a guard.”

Tay does stop what she’s doing, and instead turns her gaze down at the shorter woman, locking their eyes once more. There’s visible anger building from within, but not the same as before.  
“A bunch of papers? Maybe that’s what they are to you, but to some of us, it’s something much more critical. It was our mission to guard them and when you fail a mission, it’s not the bosses who take the worst of the hit; it’s us down at the bottom.”

Jollain blinks in surprised, not having expected this kind of honesty.  
“You?”

“Yes. Maybe you outlanders don’t care for the grunts you merely spit on or stab whenever you greedily grasp at whatever you want, but some of us have responsibilities and livelihoods tied to them. When we fail with those, it’s our lives and families who suffer.”

That makes her even more distressed. Is Tay being serious here?  
“Wait…what? You’re not telling me that they…?”

“Ugh, no, they don’t kill us. That would be stupid and a waste of resources. Instead, there’s restricted payments until you do better and make up for all the things that you’ve failed. We have to suffer, while our leaders continue doing what they’ve always done.”

Jollain is left in silence, her mouth slightly agape. Even if she shouldn’t really care, she has to internally admit that she kind of feels for this woman and what she’s being told. Perhaps it’s due to an understanding of what it’s like, of having suffered in similar ways.  
Tay eventually shows a bit of shame, anger for having to be so frank and turns away. Jollain exhales.  
“Does that include…your family?”

Tay furrows her brow and instead begin to make towards the door.  
“If you can’t give me the documents, I’ll find someone who can.”

And what would that entail? Going in towards the Guild’s headquarters? Confronting Habasi directly? Fighting? That might get Tay killed and despite everything, Jollain realizes she can’t just abandon her.  
“Wait!”, she calls out and Tay stops.  
It’s now or never. She has to decide if she prefers to let this be, to forget it ever happened and hope that she’ll never have to hear of it. Honestly, it doesn’t have to be her problem, and this is part of why she has never been much for joining a group. Too much hassle, too much drama.  
And yet…  
“Listen, I can’t get you those documents and I doubt you can either. Not alone.  
But…what if I helped you with some payment instead?”

Tay raises her eyebrow and looks over her shoulder.  
“What? You want to pay me?”

“Well, not ‘pay’ but…recompense, I suppose. For the damage I caused.”

“Can you do that? You’re just a thief.”

That makes Jollain emit a brief snort. If only she knew.  
“Maybe, but I’ve got my ways.”  
She then turns around, moving towards one of the corners of the room and without letting Tay see, she slides a small hatch open at the very edge of the wall, which she pushes her hand into and fetches a small bag from. Not all of her savings, but still an impressive amount. She should be able to get more next month, though. Shortly after, she places it in Tay’s hand.  
“That’s 200 drakes. I hope it’s enough.”

Tay widens her eyes in surprise, probably not having expected this much. Unfortunately, a little bit of suspicion slips into her expression as well.  
“Was this stolen?”

“Does it matter? You get what you wanted at least, right?”

Tay opens her mouth, perhaps to argue but, it disperses on her tongue before she manages to emit it.  
“True enough” is the only thing she says.  
She looks up into Jollain’s eyes, nods, and then promptly turns around to leave. She doesn’t even give the bosmer another word.

Jollain isn’t sure if she should be offended or not, but she sighs regardless.  
“You’re welcome, by the way!”, she calls out. Some people…  
Well, at least Jollain can be glad that she’s safe and has more drakes than she currently needs. She hopes it doesn’t have to continue like this, though. She won’t make much profits in that case.


	9. Dreams of narrow roads

Alongside one of the large roads in Vvardenfell’s wilderness, hours away from the comforting streets of Balmora, Jollain groans in relief as she sits down in the middle of a camp. She and her current travelling companion, Maak-Veh, spent a little bit of time trying to set it up, with the argonian obviously having to do most of the work. Jollain isn’t useless, but she has never really been out in the wild like this, which means that all she can do is follow instructions. 

“Thank Kynareth we’re finally done with this crap. I thought it’d never be over”, she confesses. 

Maak himself currently sits and prepares a fire on the firewood they brought with them from the city, arching his brow skeptically.  
“You thought this was a lot of work?”

She opens her eyes to look at him, feeling a little bit offended at the slightly derisive tone he uses.  
“Well…yeah! For me, it certainly fucking was. I’m not used to this.” 

He shakes his head and snorts.  
“I noticed that now.”

“Hope you’re not mocking me, or this ain’t gonna be a very fun trip, pal.”

“You’re saying you think it has been so far?”

It’s actually quite rare to find these two spending time together like this, outside of Maak’s training facility under his home. However, today’s little excursion has a different purpose.  
Both Jollain and Maak had been called to Caius’ house much earlier in the day, to receive a special assignment. They were both ordered to head towards the city of Vivec in the south. Apparently, a servant of the Great Houses reached out to imperial agents, revealing that he wanted to speak about some sort of sensitive subject, and the duo will be there to conduct the transfer in the name of the Empire.

Well, technically, this person didn’t specifically ask for the Blades, as their organization is virtually unknown within all of Morrowind, and these two are not officially acting as members either. Instead, they’re going to pretend to be a duo of civilian-clothed soldiers of the Imperial Legion. From what they’ve heard, this individual apparently wants to be embraced by the safety of the Legion before he dares say anything.  
As far as Jollain knows, Legate Asta Svalen – the head of the closest Legion outpost to Balmora – is not aware of this particular mission, but Caius doesn’t really seem to care. Even if that makes the bosmer a little bit unsure, she supposes that it’s probably not Asta’s business anyhow. The Blades are the ones meant to conduct the secret affairs of the Empire, along with information gathering when necessary. Caius will reveal more only if necessary.

For the time being, though, Jollain and Maak have had to make a stop for the night, as there’s still a day's trip to the city. She looks at her companion, unsatisfied with this question and folds her arms.  
“No, but that’s not exactly my fault, is it?”

Maak views her skeptically.  
“Isn’t it? You have complained the entire time we’ve been out here.”

“Yeah, but can you blame me? If we didn’t have to ride on that goddamn ‘vessel’, I wouldn’t have to feel this way!”  
What she points at is a creature in the distance, with a rather thick body, but much thinner and longer legs. It is, of course, one of the silt striders that can often be seen traversing the isle, currently being cared for by its caravaner. Jollain has done it once before and she has dreaded the notion of another journey ever since.  
“You know how terrifying those things are?”

He doesn’t even need to look at it, as he merely shakes his head skeptically.  
“How are they terrifying? You are aware that silt striders are almost completely harmless creatures, yes? At least compared to most of those on Vvardenfell.”

Jollain rolls her eyes.  
“Look, you wouldn’t understand! You’ve lived like this before, I haven’t!  
You think it gets better for me to know that you believe they’re harmless? It’s still a freaking _gigantic bug_ , Maak! I’ve never liked bugs to begin with!”

He sighs and when he gets the fire going, he starts to look for their cooking materials.  
“Are you going to be like this every time we decide to travel?”

She dislikes how he dismisses her fears, as surely, he must have some too?  
“What, am I not allowed to be scared anymore? It’s kinda how most people survive, you know.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Well, that’s what it fucking sounds like! This shit is still new to me and it’s gonna take some time to get used to it.”

Maak takes out a pot from his bag, along with some of the containers where he keeps some dried vegetables, preserved meats and such, before he gazes at her once more.  
“It is not the fact that you’re scared I find disturbing. It’s simply that you’re flinging an unending onslaught of worries and complaints at me today, and you are rarely like this during our training sessions.”

Even if she would prefer to ignore his arguments, she sort of realizes that he may have a slight point. She exhales and raises her hand to rub the bridge of her nose.  
“Okay, yeah, guess today is sort of…a different type of shitty.” 

With this admission, his own expression softens somewhat.  
“How so? Is it a special day of some sort?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…there’s so much crap going on.  
Not only did Caius ask us to get up very early, the Thieves Guild also needed my help with some stuff, which meant I had to wake up an extra hour before that. Like, at an ungodly hour. Seriously, I think even the Divines would say it's not right to go anywhere at that time. Anyway, I asked if we could do it on any other day, but nope, Habasi insisted it had to happen today.  
On top of this, I haven’t had a cup of tea, which I’ve come to realize I pretty much _need_ , or else I can’t think properly in the morning. I was almost late to my meeting with the guild, so I didn’t have the time.”  
She halts here, considering another aspect, which she wonders if it’s worth revealing. It’s sort of more personal, and yet she feels like she’d still like to share it with someone.  
“And then there was also this…really weird dream I had last night. Can’t stop thinking about it. It just refuses to leave me alone.”  
She shrugs.  
“So yeah, life kinda sucks today."

As she should perhaps have expected, it’s the last section which interests Maak the most. Once he has placed the pot where it needs to be above the fire, he starts to pour some preparational liquids in there.  
“A dream?”

“Yeah. Well, guess it was more of a nightmare, really.”

“Hmm. Anything you want to talk about?”

She looks much more reluctant now, eyes drifting off to the side.  
“Ah, c’mon, Maak. It’s already been on my mind for so many hours. Why do you have to remind me of it now? What good will that do?”

Maak gets a few tools out that he will use in order to stir the stew he’s going to make. All the pieces for it has already been cut and prepared for this occasion.  
“Well, in many cultures and societies around Tamriel, dreams can have all sorts of connotations, and a lot of importance. Even certain imperial teachings believe the same thing.” 

Jollain raises her eyes, looking a bit amused as she gazes at him.  
“Okay, and you’re suddenly an expert on this stuff?”

He waves one of his hands dismissively.  
“No, I haven’t claimed to be, but I used to know some people who were. I can’t help solve your worries, but I would gladly listen.”

While she’d definitely prefer to let it go and leave nightmares in the past, where they belong, she realizes that this one is still holding onto her. Perhaps it would be beneficial to give him a chance.  
“Alright, if you really want to. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”  
Gaining a sort of troubled look, she fidgets somewhat with the hands placed in her lap, trying to consider the images stuck in her mind.  
“It’s…difficult to describe in detail. A lot of what I saw was really blurry, actually, but somehow it won’t get out of my head. Usually, I forget dreams like this rather quickly after starting the day, but this one as chained itself to me somehow.”  
Closing her eyes, she tries to get a better perspective.  
“I was, like, in a room of some sort. It was dark for the most part, but I think I could spot some torches placed around the walls.”

Maak remains where he is, occasionally studying her face.  
“Did you recognize the area?”

“No, don’t think I’ve ever seen it before, but like I said, it was pretty blurry, so I couldn’t really tell.  
Anyway, there were some other people around me, dressed in dark robes with hoods.”

“I guess you didn’t see any faces?”

She tries to think back, going through the events in her mind.  
“No, pretty sure I didn’t. Not from the robed people anyway.  
There was…another person in there, though. He-“  
Jollain halts her thoughts, quickly analyzing her own assessment.  
“Well, I think it was a guy anyway, but I couldn’t tell. He was thin and wore some kind of mask I believe, unless he had a very rigid head. His voice was…deep and dark, while the words he spoke was foreign to me.”

“Foreign? They weren't just garbled nonsense that your dream conjured up, then?”

“I don't think so, but I don't actually know. I don’t speak anything else than the standard imperial tongue.”

The two of them haven’t spoken much of her education, but Maak does know that she didn’t really have one to begin with, other than some improvised reading, writing and math lessons that she partially picked up from priests of the Divines during her youth.  
“Very well. I’m curious of this man. Was anything about him familiar, at least? Did he do anything different from the others?”

Taking a deep breath, she slowly angles her head to the side.  
“I don’t think I’ve seen him before but, it was hard to say for sure. Because of the blurriness, I couldn’t really make out the full shape of his mask or head.  
He gestured wildly at times, in between some of the nonsense he spoke. The phrases he used were also heavily accentuated and sort of commanding.”

“Perhaps like he was holding some kind of sermon?”

“…possibly? I don’t know, I’ve not spent much time at the Temple in Cyrodiil, or here, really.”  
She puts her hands together, rubbing the palms against one another, as she tries to remember other elements of the dream.  
“Eventually, he just started passing by each one of the robed people, putting his hands on their heads, and when he did, they began to scream. Like this…loud and terrifying shriek.”  
She shivers at the thought of it.  
“I-I tried to go somewhere, to leave the area, but I couldn’t move. I desperately wanted to say something, but no words would leave my mouth. I could only watch as he eventually came to me, placed his hand on my head and…”  
She opens her eyes and peers at Maak.  
“I woke up.”

Maak sits quietly for several moments, concentrating on the pot and his task, hoping that it can help reveal some sort of hidden wisdom. Unfortunately, not much comes to mind.  
“That is…certainly what I would call a nightmare. I can’t say I know much of what it could all mean, but it does sound very ominous.”

“You think?”, she asks sarcastically.  
“Pretty sure I told you it was really weird earlier.”

He tries to ignore her attitude and continues to develop his thoughts.  
“If I remember some of my discussions with these people in the past correctly, dreams of this nature might pertain to some sort of special occasion.  
Perhaps it might have something to do with the stars?”

Jollain looks at him with an increasingly skeptical gaze.  
“Stars? What does that have to do with it?”

“The stars, the moons, the sun – all of them have varying influences and powers on Nirn, depending on who you ask. Perhaps you believe that the Empire doesn’t care about such things, but you would be wrong.  
What is your birthsign, for example?”

He is met with silence from Jollain for a few seconds. She doesn’t look hesitant, but rather contemplative, distant.  
“I don’t know.”

“What?”, he asks with a raised brow. “How can you not know? The imperials base it on the month you are born in, which is why you gain that sign.”

She exhales and folds her arms.  
“Yeah, thanks, I know that, but I don’t actually know when I was born. Not exactly, anyway.  
I…never really knew my parents. I was initially raised in an orphanage and then grew up on the streets. They don’t really care much about your identity there, other than your name.  
I do remember someone talking to me when I was much younger, saying I was born under the sign of the Shadow. Whether that’s true or not, who can tell?  
That said, it was kinda beneficial for my reputation on the streets of the capital. When you say you ‘traverse the shadows’ and crap like that, some people are gullible enough to believe it.”

Maak raises a hand to run his claws over one of his chin spikes in thought.  
“You haven’t ever felt the impact during your time as a thief?”

“Well…I dunno. Maybe? I will admit that I’ve always liked the night, but I have no idea if that has anything to do with it.”

“There’s a possibility that it does. My people would certainly say so, at least.”

Jollain looks at him with interest. It’s not like Maak never speaks of other argonians, but he doesn’t often reveal his past more than occasional snippets. This might be an opportunity.  
“In what way?”

“In Black Marsh, argonians who are born under the Shadow are called Shadowscales. They’re a group often associated with the Dark Brotherhood, given to them at birth, or sometimes taken away when the truth is found out.”

Jollain widen her eyes.  
“Oh. Well that sounds kinda…sinister. Who are they?”

“They’re people trained in the arts of stealth and combat, some of Tamriel’s best assassins and scouts.  
The Kings and Queens of Black Marsh, as our leaders are called in the imperial tongue, have utilized them through the ages, to settle conflicts and disputes without too much blood having to be shed. Of course, they also gather information, when necessary.”

The idea itself isn’t ludicrous, as she’s sure that other people do similar things. In fact, the Empire probably does lots of heinous crap, and the Blades are likely just one of the elements. That said, she remains sort of skeptical.  
“O…kay. And there’s not anyone who thinks it’s kinda weird that they get to take away children, then?”

Maak shakes his head slowly.  
“Not really. It’s part of our traditions and beliefs. I don’t think every single child is taken, but many still are. It’s quite a privilege too; shadowscales go through rigorous training and are highly skilled. They’re respected among many other nations and organizations.”

While it’s quite a foreign concept for her, she’ll admit that they must be very efficient if they’re trained for such a long time. She hasn’t been educated in this way, but a lifetime in the shadows has definitely helped her skill.  
“Hmm, I guess that’s reasonable.  
Have you ever known any Shadowscales?”

“A few.”

“During your time while working for the King, I guess?”

He furrows his brow, gaze hardening somewhat as it remains focused on the pot.  
“Well, not just during that time. I was acquainted with a couple of them some years prior to my service as well.”

“Have you ever been close to any? Friends or family?”

She notices a slight shift in his expression then. His eyes turn more distant and there’s a bit further tension in his jaw.  
“Only one.”

“What uh, were they like?”

Maak stops again. At this time, some of the contents in the pot has started to reach a state closer to boiling and he pours some of the vegetables and small pieces of meat into it.  
“It was a while back and she was a few years older than me. She was strong, fierce and determined. Also, the deadliest individual I’ve ever met. No one could prowl through the shadows quite like her. She helped refine some of my bladed techniques. I owe her much.”

Jollain is uncertain if she wishes to continue, or if it’s even wise to do so. Each of his sentences are spoken as if they were heavy, possibly even a burden. She doesn’t know if it hurts him and if it’ll be worse to continue. Despite her hesitation, she needs to ask one more thing.  
“Where...is she now?”

He remains silent for several moments, pushing a ladle through the contents and trying to mix them together. It does smell rather nicely and due to the air being quite still today, with clear skies, nothing really disturbs their camp. Well, maybe Jollain herself could be such an element.  
“She served Sithis to the end.”

Jollain sighs, shaking her head while her gaze falls. She should never have asked.  
“I…I’m sorry.”

Whether he agrees or not is hard to tell, as his current expression is rather ambivalent. That in itself may be some kind of defense mechanism, to protect him from further inquiries.  
“Perhaps you could get some of our bowls and drinks before this is done. And ask the caravaner if he wants some.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that”, she says, glad to get something to distract them. In the future, she will be careful regarding such topics.


	10. Spider's rules

Vivec City.  
Before they arrived, Maak-Veh had relayed some basic information of the area they were supposed to enter, and even while she knew this, Jollain can’t say that she was ever properly prepared for it.  
When she heard that it was supposed to be the biggest city in Vvardenfell, she had made some immediate assumptions. Balmora was among the largest as well, right? And that place, in comparison to the Imperial City, was nothing. Vivec can’t be much larger than that, or so she had thought.

Oh, but how wrong she had been. She had not expected to witness something as spectacular as what they have now entered.  
It is indeed a huge city. Perhaps not quite to the same size as the capital, but still very much unique in its own right. It even has its own arena! Jollain had kinda figured this sort of thing was specific to the imperials, based on how they talked about it, but it appears that was a mistake.

Even though her first impression was quite positive, this was diminished almost immediately upon arrival. She realized pretty quickly that there is as much division in here as there ever was back in the capital.  
While the city itself is made up of nine islands, or cantons as they call it, holding different purposes and origins, they are still built in fairly similar ways. Not only do the wealthy and powerful live in the upper and more pristine areas, the poor have to suffice with some pretty bad conditions, some being forced to descend into the sewers to survive.  
Apparently, while many priests from the Temple do their best to treat people with difficulties to pay for official services, there still isn’t much done to alleviate the actual suffering or help anyone get back on track. Jollain wouldn’t say that this surprises her, of course, due to the fact that she has lived in almost exactly these kinds of circumstances, but that doesn’t remove her opinion that she thinks it sucks. In fact, she doesn’t even blame it on the dunmer or Morrowind alone – pretty much the entire Empire is structured this way, and she seriously doubts imperial intervention could improve things. The powerful will always wanna remain in their positions, and as far as she has seen or read, no government is above that mindset. 

The two most astounding, and possibly even horrifying, factors about Vivec City are blatant – the fact that a god actually _lives_ here and the Ministry of Truth.  
The latter is its own area, but one unlike the cantons. Instead, it’s like a large rock that somehow floats up in the air, above the city, within view of everyone. Maak informed her that it apparently holds a lot of religious and political prisoners, and other enemies of either the Temple or the Great Houses.  
That in and of itself should be terrifying enough, but apparently, the boulder does not merely float there for no reason. Ages ago, long before this generation, Vivec supposedly suspended it in the air, while it was hurtling down to bring destruction to the city. Should the people ever lose faith in Vivec, he has warned them that it will one day continue its descent, for his magic can’t contain it at that stage.  
If that isn’t the most weirdly disconcerting godly thing by someone who’s supposed to be benevolent, Jollain doesn’t know what is. 

Then again, the first fact can’t be dismissed either. She’s virtually shocked by the very idea of a god living here. A _god_ , having a house and staying among its worshippers?  
Perhaps the only reason that she’s so astonished by this is because of the type of worship she’s used to. The Nine Divines, the deities of Cyrodiil and the Empire at large, have always been such distant figures. To her, the gods should be seen as entities only spoken of in special circumstances, or for contemplation. They’re used to justify certain behaviors, laws, or philosophies, but not really in any direct sense. You can’t see, hear, or touch them.  
But in Morrowind, that doesn’t really work, does it? The gods are here. They’re almost people’s neighbors, except still distant in the sense that they’re rich, basically royalty. Jollain can’t ignore the fact that it makes her worried. How do gods operate? Can they hear her words, no matter how low she speaks? Can they listen in on her thoughts? How much power do they have? 

For now, she tries her very best to push any such thoughts out of her head, or else she’s afraid she might go mad. She has a mission to do with Maak, and she can’t get too distracted.  
Currently, the duo is inside the canton known as the ‘Foreign Quarter’, a place which previously was the only district where outlanders were allowed to enter. This changed not too long ago, once the Empire finally gained more jurisdiction up here, and outlanders are now technically allowed, by law, to go where they please, even if they still aren’t necessarily welcomed.  
Not that these quarters are bad or anything. In fact, Jollain would say it’s better than some parts of Labor Town. The problem is that, where they need to go is not particularly pleasant. They are expected to meet their contact in the sewers, which of course is the most appropriate location for a secret meeting, even if not enjoyable at all. 

As the two wanders through the depths of the dark tunnels below the surface, Jollain immediately recognizes how unwelcoming this area is. It’s poorly lit, stinks of all sorts of foul materials, and the denizens are mostly beggars, the sick, and the discarded. She feels for them, as she was close to being one of them at some point, but can’t really do much for them. Well, she can do something at least, which is why she leaves a few coins to some who ask for it, enough for a meal or two, when they pass by.

“The dunmer really don’t like us here, huh?”, she asks Maak after a while, keeping her tone quiet for now.

The argonian, currently being equipped with a spear, but having it strapped to his back, glances at her sideways.  
“That’s not quite a fair observation. It certainly isn’t true for the entire populace, even if it might feel that way. The problem is how they are ruled.  
Besides, as I explained earlier, the entire city operates in this way. There are just as many poor dunmer in the other canton sewers, if not more.”

Jollain sighs, feeling a little bit guilty over what she said, but she discards it for now.  
“Yeah, but that’s still crap, Maak. This isn’t how it should be.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s the reality of the situation. I am not saying I agree with the system, merely that I acknowledge its existence.” 

She starts to frown and folds her arms. In the distance, they can see how some individuals, a group of people whispering to each other, glances in the direction of the two, before they leave hurriedly. Either they don’t like new arrivals, or they are eyeing them up in preparation for a future assault. Jollain is ready to face either scenario.  
“I spent a couple of years living in the sewers of the Imperial City, and that was just as horrible. No one should be forced to do that.”

Maak continues to look at her, his gaze growing distant and contemplative.  
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way. You won’t hear me disagree either. My own people suffers as well, especially those who are enslaved on the mainland. It infuriates me sometimes how certain parties, such as House Dres, are still allowed to conduct such business.”

Jollain tilts her head curiously.  
“If that’s the case, then why do you work for the Emperor? Feels like you should hate him and all the Empire.”

It appears Maak realizes that they are surrounded by certain dubious individuals as well, which is why he now keeps his eyes on the terrain as they speak.  
“There are two reasons why I do this.  
The first is simple – I need the drakes. I could continue to be a hunter if I wanted to, but that does not pay nearly as well. You need to be not just extremely skilled, but also ready to exploit certain rules if you want even better, and I am not prepared to do that.  
The second is more complicated, but also more important. I feel the need to prove my people’s dedication to those in charge. I wish to show them that, just because we are different, that does not mean we cannot be valuable or efficient. We are just as intelligent, persuasive, and creative as any human or elf.”

Jollain won’t dispute that, of course. In fact, even without Maak, she has known some pretty good and reasonable argonians, no different from others in the basics.  
“So, that’s it? You just wanna satisfy the Empire?”

He snorts.  
“You say that so dismissively. Perhaps you find it a strange reason, but I think it is important. Argonians have suffered under the rule of others for a long time, especially the dunmer. If we can prove ourselves to the Empire, I think Black Marsh can get even better deals than we have now.  
Besides, I do truly believe in the goals of the Emperor, to unify Tamriel under a single banner, if we are still allowed to be our own cultures, cherish our own values. If the Empire can reduce the amount of wars and fighting, while bringing wealth and prosperity, that is a worthwhile goal to achieve.”

The more he talks, the less she doubts him. It seems he has worked out his reasons pretty well. Maybe he has had to justify it before.  
“As good of a reason as any, I guess, even if I’m a bit unfamiliar with it. Never lived or even been to Valenwood, so I can’t really relate to it as much.  
I just have doubts if that’ll ever happen. Cyrodiil isn’t exactly a wellspring of equality.”

“True enough, but there is still the potential. There are many problems in the world, but that is why we are here, to act as the Emperor’s eyes and ears.”

He makes it sound so noble and worthwhile, but in reality, they’re just spies. She doesn’t wish to criticize Maak, if he truly believes in this cause, but she will probably remain skeptical. Mostly, she just wants to get paid.  
Only a couple of minutes later, they arrive in the corner where they were supposed to meet their contact, beneath a particular torch that has been lit, likely a few hours ago. However, at an initial glance, they don’t see anyone.

Both continue to check the corners around them, but neither see nor hear anyone, not even any suspicious onlookers.  
“Huh”, Jollain says. “Nothing. You think we’re a bit early?”

Maak furrows his brow, and Jollain believes she can see how he grows more tense.  
“Possibly. It should be the right place, at least, according to our instructions.”

“Could be that he bailed out. Snitches are rarely the bravest of people.”

That makes her companion sigh.  
“Jollain, do not dismiss him so quickly. The fact that he’s doing this at all is a fairly brave act.”

Jollain shrugs.  
“And the most paranoid too. I’m just saying.”

Fortunately, this doesn’t last for long, as they see movement in the shadows soon after. An individual steps out, being both hooded and robed. By studying his way of walking, constantly glancing around the vicinity, and how he keeps his hands hidden under his sleeves, they assume this is the person they’re looking for.  
When he finally reaches the light of the torch, some of it illuminates what hides under the hood, and they spot someone with a thick black beard, light grey skin, and black hair, his dark red eyes shimmering somewhat.

For now, he keeps his distance, staying several meters away.  
“Are you…the representatives of the Legion?”, he asks with an uncertain tone.

“That’s correct”, Maak confirms. “And you are?”

The man looks the most skeptical of the argonian, but he tries to ignore it, clearing his throat.  
“Delosil. I can’t say much more than that right now, for my own safety.”

“Very well. We heard that you had information regarding the Great Houses.”

Delosil gives the darkness another quick sweep, just to be sure. It makes Jollain roll her eyes. Could he be any more obvious?  
“I do, indeed. Things that your Empire would be very eager to hear, I’m sure.”

“Good. Did you write it down?”

He turns to look at the duo, arches his brow skeptically, and then snorts.  
“What? No, I certainly did not. Do you think I’m a fool? I know that you can simply get rid of me once I stop being useful. The information stays with me until I’m safe.”

Maak and Jollain glances at each other. Seems like this guy isn’t going to be very easy for them.  
“Uh, the Legion doesn’t really operate that way”, the bosmer tries to explain.

“That doesn’t matter. You have my terms now, and you will have to bring me into a secure area before I agree to do or say anything. Once I am satisfied with where you take me, I shall relay everything I can.”

Technically, that would bring him right into the hands of the Legion, and they could simply imprison him, even if neither of the two know if they’d do that. Then again, the Blades are working without the Legion this time, so he’ll have to be taken elsewhere. Caius will probably know where.  
“Alright then”, Maak replies. “But you will have to follow us. Along the way, you will have to abide by our instructions and commands. If you don’t, we can’t guarantee your safety.”

He looks a little bit uncomfortable, but eventually nods.  
“If you say so. I trust that you are professionals, so I will allow you to lead the way.”

Just as they are about to approach him, they hear another voice, somewhere in the darkness.  
“Well now, Delosil, this is an interesting choice of location for a meeting”, someone says, the voice being somewhat accented.  
“Unfortunately, it is not wise to suggest the dark corners of this city to discuss these matters. You never know who might be listening.”

All three look around, Maak raising his hand up to the spear, while Jollain frowns and rests her hand at the hilts of her blades.  
“Who is this? Show yourself”, Maak states calmly, but the tension is clear in his tone.

“Oh, merely one with a particular interest in your new companion here. There’s a certain message I have to deliver to him.”

Delosil suddenly widens his eyes in shock, and starts to run towards them.  
“No! Help! Protect me!”

Even though they might have tried, this does not become an alternative. In the middle of the darkness, on the other side of the stream of water in the center of this tunnel, a light flares up, and within two seconds, a ball of fire shoots forward, straight towards Delosil.  
Maak widens his eyes, and then grabs Jollain’s arm, yanking her backwards.  
“Look out!”

As the fireball hits the man, it erupts in a small explosion, sending flames flying all around, and Delosil himself gets knocked right into the nearby wall. The shockwave from it pushes both Maak and Jollain to the floor, trying to protect themselves from it.  
Once they rise to help him, the caster has already prepared another spell, and a translucent magical blade appears in the air. Being uninterested in the duo, it targets Delosil once more, piercing his already damaged body, and finishes the job. The dunmer takes his last breath while his body is still burning.

“No!”, Jollain calls out, and then jumps to her feet. Now that they know where the person is, they see another robed creature out there, and Jollain pulls out her swords, getting ready to deal with this killer.  
“You’ll pay for that, asshole!”

Obviously, her companion isn’t about to let her fight alone, but before either can get far, the attacker raises a hand and calls out.  
“Wait! There is no need to fight.”  
The being soon shows itself, walking towards the light of another torch, and pulls down their hood. Beneath it, they see something they might not have expected – a khajiit. She has dark grey fur, with a few small white spots in certain places. Her mane is completely absent, her left ear has a bronze earring in it, while the other is scarred, half sliced off. Her eyes are orange and actually fairly gentle.  
“My name is Vaziri, and I act in the name of the ancient law of Morrowind.”

Jollain frowns at her.  
“What in Oblivion are you talking about? You just murdered a man!”

Vaziri runs a hand in under her robes, and then displays a piece of paper for them, with a special red seal.  
“Yes, but with good reason and completely within the rules.”

Even if Jollain wants to continue, she has to stop when Maak seizes her shoulder.  
“Wait, she’s right.”

“What are you talking about?”, Jollain asks him.  
“She has a piece of paper, and that gives her the freedom to kill someone?”

“That is not just a piece of paper. It is an honorable writ of execution, utilized by the Morag Tong. It allows them to assassinate people legally.” 

Jollain widens her eyes in shock. Is he serious? How is that even possible?  
“What the fuck? That’s insane!”

Vaziri snorts amusedly, before putting the note back into her robes.  
“It is the tradition of Morrowind, and the dunmer people. If you cannot accept that, outlander, then you are in the wrong place.”

Jollain frowns, glaring at the khajiit. Not only is she frighteningly efficient, she’s smug too. They are no more than a couple of meters away, and yet so far from being able to get her. It’s infuriating.  
“…fine, whatever. Leave then.”

In a show of some kind of grace, Vaziri bows her head.  
“I thank you for your understanding. I shall report the murder to the Ordinators soon enough. I wish you a good day.”

She calmly departs the area, leaving the two with the mess of a scorched body, and questions left unanswered. Maak hurries over to it, quickly trying to put out the fire, but soon emits a sigh.  
“There’s no chance for us to get him back. He’s definitely dead.  
Whatever lead we were going to receive from this man, it’s now over. If I were to guess, the Great Houses knew of his betrayal. Otherwise, the Morag Tong wouldn’t be here.”

Trying to somewhat gather her thoughts and soothe her furiously beating heart, Jollain leans against the wall and exhales. Every time she thinks she can get used to living here, it seems Morrowind stands ready to give her yet another punch.


	11. Notions of future

One thing Jollain has to admit about herself is that she’s usually not inclined to be much of a good neighbor. It’s not that she doesn’t care at all, but she often finds it difficult how to approach a subject like that, or how to make friends outside of her sphere of activity. Back in the capital, most of her life was spent on trying to survive, which meant doing things that brought her in the direction of the Thieves Guild. As she never knew who else to trust, she chose not to associate with most other people, including her neighbors.  
In many ways, that hasn’t really changed with her new location. She’s still doing stuff that she can’t share with anyone else, and despite that her life is not on the verge of collapsing as much anymore, she still dedicates most of it to being a spy. 

An example was that incident with a certain dunmer, who technically broke into her apartment, even if she was here when it happened. It may have ended somewhat peacefully, but she didn’t know what to do about that. Obviously, she had to inform Caius, but when he asked whether she wanted help dealing with it, she turned him down, being sure that she could handle it on her own.  
She thought about discussing it with her neighbors, just to let them all know, but ultimately decided not to. It probably would’ve just spread both rumors and fear to the rest of the tenants on this street, and there's always the risk that they might've targeted her as a potential security issue. They don’t really seem like the kind of people who’d do that, but who knows, right? She still has issues with trust in that regard.

After having returned from Vivec City, and relaying the bad news to Caius, Jollain decided that she wanted to have a few days of solitude, just sit at home and maybe enjoy a good book. There is a rather friendly bookseller who has a store in the market district, an altmer by the name of Nevissa, that sold her a few useful texts with general knowledge about the dunmer and their history. The seller herself is also a little bit eccentric, but Jollain felt comfortable in her presence and figured that she’d come back there more often.

Afternoon has just arrived on this day. Jollain sips on a cup of tea and reads her book, when a noise gets her attention. It’s a few knocks on the door, which makes her a little tense. Just like last time, she isn’t really expecting any guests, nor would any of her associates in the Blades approach her this blatantly. Well, Maak has the alibi, but he is not particularly fond of the city, and he has never shown interest in visiting her either. This is why Jollain decides to clear her throat and call out.

“Who is it?”

Compared to the unfortunate event over a week ago, the answer is a little bit slower this time, and also spoken with a slightly uncertain voice.  
“Uh, delivery, I suppose.”

Jollain narrows her eyes suspiciously, feeling like she recognizes the voice. It did sound a little too meagre but, perhaps that’s on purpose. Standing up cautiously, she gradually approaches the door. Why has she not bothered to get something to peek through it yet? This is exactly what she needed to be prepared for.  
After slowly unlocking it, she slides it open just a tiny bit, in order to get a small gap, enough for her to assess the visitor. To her dismay, it’s exactly the same visitor who harassed her last time. She widens her eyes and then slams the door shut so swiftly that the dunmer doesn’t even have a chance to react. 

“Not again!”  
As her hand was already on the key, she manages to lock it almost immediately. 

It is a little bit surprising how there’s no fierce reaction or resistance like last time, though, and this feeling increases once she hears how Tayerise places a hand on the door, but doesn’t try to force it.  
“Wait!”

“Go away! I don’t have anything, dammit! Not giving you more gold!”

The tone she hears this time is not at all the same from the last visit, as it’s several degrees milder.  
“I-I know, that’s not why I’m here.”  
It appears Tay hesitates slightly before saying anything else.  
“I just…I wanted to apologize for what I did last time.”

Apologize? That’s not the type of word she had anticipated. Has to be bullshit, right?  
“What? Are you joking?”

“…no, I’m serious. I…I brought some gifts for you. Maybe it will help as a recompense.”

Jollain arches her brow skeptically.  
“What? Wasn’t that what I gave you?”

“Yes, and I’m following your example. What I did during my previous visit, it…wasn’t right. I realize I had to come back.”

That sounds kinda strange, and she’s still feeling rather uncertain regarding the truth of these words, but then again, it might be worth having a small peek at least.  
When the curiosity rises to unbearable degrees, Jollain finally unlocks the door, giving Tay enough time to take a step back and grant Jollain some space. Compared to last time, the dunmer isn’t wearing quite as heavy armor. Instead, she’s dressed in a mix of dark leather and bonemold armor. She’s also not wielding any weapons, which is a welcome change. Angling her gaze up to study Tay’s face, Jollain can see that she doesn’t look very intimidating at all. Sure, it hasn’t changed in appearance, but the demeanor is very dissimilar. In fact, with the sort of slumped stance and awkward expression, she appears almost shy.

Jollain leans against her doorframe, placing the other hand on her hip. Tay looks in another direction and holds up a cloth bag for her.  
“It’s erm, not much, but hopefully it’s better than nothing.”

While she eyes the dunmer skeptically at first, Jollain relents after a few seconds, and takes the container from her hands.  
“Thanks, I guess.”

The other woman nods faintly and Jollain merely stands there, waiting for something to happen. Surely, there must be something else she wanted to say, right?  
Several silent and tense seconds pass by, with Tay doing nothing else than fidgeting and watching the ground. That she can’t even look Jollain in the eye is not just surprising, but confusing.  
“I uh…I’ll just-  
…bye.”

She quickly whirls around and begins moving down the stairs, away from the apartment. Jollain remains in her position, quite stunned, not just by the turn of events, but by the surprisingly meek display. Did she somehow meet another person just now? Was this a nicer twin? Or was the last time merely an act, in order to seize what she needed?  
For a moment, Jollain opens the bag and looks inside, finding a bottle of something, most likely liquor, and a small bouquet of flowers. It’s put together somewhat haphazardly and if she had to guess, they might be wildflowers. She doesn’t know much about such matters, however, so all she can tell for sure is that they’re in colors of gold and blue.

Tay is still within line of sight, and Jollain is not about to let this slip out of her grasp. She needs answers.  
“Hey, wait up!”, she calls out.  
She watches how Tay halts abruptly and very slowly turns to peer over her shoulder, without responding. Jollain has taken a couple of steps outside, to the top of the stairs.  
“Are you just gonna leave without explaining anything? I mean, there are quite a few questions on my mind.”

Tay hesitates, as if this isn’t what she wanted to hear. She glances out over the streets from her current location, before returning the eyes to Jollain.  
“…out here?”

Is she really about to invite this woman, someone who is supposed to be her enemy?  
“Well, no, of course not. You can come in, if you promise not to break stuff.”  
The dunmer looks down, contemplating her options and probably questioning her own judgement, before finally making up her mind. Once more, she heads back up the stairs, slowly approaching the bosmer. When she reaches the top, Jollain stands in Tay's way for a few moments, studying the unexpected guest, before she extends her hand in greeting.  
“Might as well do it properly this time. Don’t think you’ve heard my name yet. I’m Jollain.”

Another tentative moment goes by, until the other woman dares return it and their hands connect in a shake.  
“Tayerise. Guess you know that already...”

Jollain smiles faintly and then nods back at the door, entering her apartment again.  
“Nice to meet you in a polite manner for once, Tayerise.”

“…yeah. I uh, I’m really sorry for the pain I likely caused you. I know it might seem strange after I forced myself into your home, but things just turned out that way.”

When they’re both inside, Jollain shuts and locks the door behind them. Doesn’t want any more sudden guests.  
After that, she nudges her thumb in the direction of a corner.  
“Have a seat.”

“…are you sure? I can stand if it’s not-“

“You’re already inside, so might as well get comfortable. Sit down.”

While the bosmer heads off to locate some mugs, Tay takes a deep breath prior to following the request.  
Jollain isn’t used to drinking with enemies. In fact, most days, she’d only do that if she can acquire some poison first, but this situation feels different. Both their first and second encounter had an odd underlying tone beneath it; Jollain must find out more. And hey, perhaps making friends over booze might be a better plan than fighting her.

“Well", Jollain starts, as to continue their conversation, “I guess I broke into your place, or your group’s place, last time, so it’s probably fair.”  
Tay displays a hesitant nod, while Jollain tries to find something to put the flowers in. She does have a few canisters of water, which she’ll probably need to fill up later, as well as a free mug that she can put them in. Not knowing for sure where to place it, she finally turns to her nightstand and leaves it on top, fills it up with liquid, and then gets the flowers into it. To her, it just looks stupidly improvised and low-class. She gives the dunmer a slight grimace.  
“…I haven’t lived here for very long, so I don’t have a lot of alternatives.”

Tay peers at her, and then tries to offer as kind of a smile as possible. Jollain finds it surprisingly cute.  
“It uh, looks just fine to me. During my last…visit, I didn’t see a lot of non-essential items, so I hoped it’d be okay. Not exactly the most expensive gift, but…”

“Oh, it is! I like them. I guess it’s my first bit of proper decoration in here. Gotta start somewhere, right?”  
She gets back to the table, now with two other mugs they can actually drink from, and sits down on the chair at the opposite side of the table. She lifts the bottle up from her bag and studies it. No markings, of course. Opening it, she takes a quick sniff and arches an eyebrow curiously.  
“What is this stuff?”

“It’s mazte.”  
Jollain gives her a confused gaze, which Tay mistakes for a doubtful one.  
“I…I know it’s not really exclusive or anything, but it’s the only thing I could get ahold of and-“

Jollain chuckles, which interrupts the dunmer, and lifts a hand to dismiss the excuse.  
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve never really had it, that’s all. I still need to learn about the kind of drinks they sell here, so this helps me out. As long as you’ll share it with me, of course.”

She tilts the bottle down and starts to pour some up for both of them, before Tay has even had a chance to protest.  
“Oh, I was thinking you’d keep this for yourself. I mean, I was the one who caused your pain so-“

“Nonsense! Either we’re drinking this together, or not at all.”

Jollain adds a wink at the end, managing to put on a small smile for the dunmer. Tay isn't entirely satisfied, but gives in.  
“If you insist.”

“I do!”

When she’s done pouring, she pushes the other mug towards Tay’s side of the table, gently bumps them into each other in a toast, and then goes for a quick sip of it. Tay grabs a bit larger one for herself, feeling that pleasant burn in the back of her throat. It’s not quite as enjoyable as from sujamma, but that stuff is also more expensive.  
She leans back and waits for the bosmer’s reaction, who tilts her head back and forth in thought.  
“What do you think?”

“Mm, it’s not bad. I’ve had better, but not by much. What is this, anyway?”

“I believe it’s made from fermented saltrice. A lot of farmers up here grow this sort of material for various reasons. It’s primarily used in food, I suppose, but makes for pretty good and cheap liquor too.”

“Hmm, interesting.”  
Jollain watches the beverage sitting in her canister for a little while, and then gazes back up at Tay with a faint smile.  
“I guess it’s kinda obvious that I’m not from around here.”

“A bit, yes. Where are you from? If I might ask.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m born in the Imperial City.”

Tay widen her eyes slightly.  
“Wow. That’s…a big place, right?”

“Yeah, you can say that”, Jollain says with laughter in her tone. “It is the capital of the Empire, so might not be so strange to consider. A lot of people gather, live, and trade from all over Tamriel in it, so it’s pretty crowded.”

The dunmer takes another sip of her drink.  
“I don’t know much about it, other than what people say. There’s some sort of…tower?”

“The White-Gold Tower, yeah. It’s in the very middle, basically the Emperor’s and Elder Council’s place.”

“I see. Is it true that it’s as tall as the Red Mountain?”

Jollain blinks with a puzzled expression on her face, and then emits a short laugh.  
“No, not that tall. I mean, it’s tall, alright, but that’s kind of an exaggeration. I bet some imperials like to claim that, though.”  
Tay smiles, although somewhat embarrassed at her own question. The bosmer notes, once more, the cuter qualities of this woman.  
“So, might I ask why you’ve decided to come here and give me apologizing gifts? I mean, it’s quite nice, but I hope you understand that I’m kinda surprised.”

Even if she’s troubled by the question, Tay still nods briefly.  
“I see why you feel that way, but this whole scenario is a rather, well, complicated.”

If Jollain had to guess, it's probably something the dunmer isn’t all too eager to speak of either. Then again, she hasn’t fled, and she seems to be enjoying herself. Maybe it’s worth giving Tay a chance.  
“I get that, but you’re here and I’m interested, no matter how long of a story it is. You know, to a reasonable degree.”  
She watches how Tay turns her gaze downwards and strokes her hands together, while working on the explanation.  
“You don’t seem like the overly violent type, for example.”

With a little bit of skepticism, Tay raises her eyes again.  
“I’m not exactly opposed to violence; wouldn’t be in this business, if I was.”  
Then she sighs, slumping her shoulders.  
“But I prefer to use what strength I have for better purposes than extorting people.”

“Uh, probably shouldn’t have joined Camonna, if that’s your preference.”

“Yes, I know.”  
She hesitates once more, rolling her thumbs a bit.  
“I don’t usually tell people this kind of stuff but, I have already decided that you deserve it.  
I’m not really in Camonna because I agree with their methods or ideals; I do it for the gold. My family is fairly poor and I’m not exactly an educated woman, so I have to go with what I do best. Sadly, that turns out to be swinging a weapon and using my physical expertise.”

In this regard, Jollain can certainly relate. Not that she has ever had a family, but the desperation of survival is a startlingly familiar concept. These two are not alone with such thoughts, of course.  
“To be honest, that makes a whole lot of sense. You are big and strong, clearly. But, if you don’t like Camonna that much, why not go somewhere else?  
Why not join the Fighters Guild? Or one of the city guards?”

Tay places one hand above the other, rubbing them together in doubt.  
“That’s-…I’m sorry, I can’t really discuss that. Suffice it to say, for personal reasons, I can’t join any imperial group.  
And, well, I’ve tried joining some of the House guards, but they’ve told me that I don’t fit their requirements.”

“What? What kind of requirements?”

“…it’s complicated.”  
She looks at Jollain with guilt in her eyes.  
“I’m sorry, I wish I could explain properly, but…”

Jollain merely waves off her apologies.  
“No, no, I get it. We don’t know each other, and there’s probably some local or family stuff that I don’t quite understand. It’s not my place to pry, anyway.”

Tay appears to be rather relieved by her reaction.  
“Thank you for understanding.  
And, well, you already know why I intruded, but perhaps I can add to it. They did threaten to lower our wages for the month, but that’s not the only reason. They demanded that me and a few of the others investigate, or we would receive further punishment. I might have been able to reject, but if I did, it’s likely that they’d have sent someone more…forceful to you. Someone that probably wouldn’t be as averse as I am to hurting you.”

Well, can’t really deny the logic in that reasoning, even if it seems strange that she would care.  
“Heh, I suppose I should be thankful then, that you preferred coming here on your own.”  
Jollain leans her elbows on the table, to get a bit closer, with an amused expression playing on her face.  
“Although, you were kinda forceful in your own way, really.”

Tay clears her throat and fidgets with her hands around her mug again.  
“That’s…that’s true, yes. I uh, wanted to convince you as quickly as possible, so nothing bad would happen, which meant that I had to put on a threatening face.”

“In a way, it did work out, so I suppose you did a good job.”

It doesn’t look like Tay feels quite the same.  
“Maybe, but I’m not very proud of what I did. I shouldn’t have threatened you like that. I could’ve said something else, I’m sure. And then you ended up helping me anyway.”  
She sighs heavily.  
“Once again, I’m sorry.”

The bosmer smiles and tilts her head slightly. Moments later, Tay feels how Jollain pokes her under the table, putting their feet together.  
“Tsk, you’ve apologized enough now. I mean, when we bumped into each other the first time, you were pretty lenient. And then I threw magic on you! Think you don’t need to be sorry after that.”

Tay snorts somewhat amusedly. ‘Bumping into each other’ is probably quite an understatement.  
“I suppose you’re right.”

“By the way, while we’re asking questions, why were you so lenient on me? Didn’t use your weapon even once, and you agreed to meet me alone. The second time, I could even convince you to leave. I’ll admit that it has kinda been on my mind.”

More stuff that Tay probably doesn’t want to go too far into, but might need to discuss to some degree. She lifts a hand and scratches the back of her neck.  
“I just…didn’t feel the need to be overly violent, that’s all.”

Now that’s something she has to investigate. There are probably several people who would disagree.  
“But, uh, I broke into Camonna’s place. I tried to steal your stuff. Can’t say that I was innocent, really.”

“That is true but, once I caught up to you, it was pretty clear that you were outmatched in strength. I take no pleasure in hurting those who are weaker than me.”

She continues to display an astounding amount of kindness, especially with her mindset.  
Still, Jollain is not about to let that one slip past her, and therefore smirks slightly.  
“Excuse me? ‘Weaker’? Dunno where you’re getting that from!”

Tay blinks and appears rather puzzled, not quite seeing the angle. Once she does, she widens her eyes, and lifts a hand defensively.  
“O-oh, no no, that’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean that you’re weak or anything like that. I mean, you seem capable enough on your own, it’s simply that I, erm, I just-“

Jollain watches her while she stutters and tries to explain herself, but only for as long as the bosmer can rein herself in. Eventually, she erupts with gentle laughter, which interrupts the dunmer’s clarification.  
“I was joking! No need to get so defensive.”  
Tay exhales and hides her face in her hands. She is really bad at this. Another thing that might be adorable about her. Once she’s done teasing, Jollain smiles widely and places a hand on Tay’s arm, caressing it carefully.  
“I must admit, you’re a lot nicer than I thought you’d be.”

When Tay has managed to collect herself, she returns the expression and nods in recognition.  
“You are as well. In fact, I wouldn’t have thought this could end as pleasantly as it did.”

“Yeah, I agree. If you don’t mind, I think we should definitely do this again sometime.”  
She lifts her mug and shakes it around slightly.  
“Next time though, I’ll see if I can get something more exclusive for us.”  
She winks and actually manage to get a chuckle out of Tay.

They sit for perhaps another hour or so and talk about various subjects, allowing Jollain to get a view of Vvardenfell directly from a dunmer, until they finally separate. In both of their minds, they’re hoping this might end up being the first bridge created between the Thieves Guild and Camonna Tong.  
Unfortunately, that will probably just end up being wishful thinking.


	12. Alliances

In a silent, empty, and dark hallway, only slightly lit by distant torches, being disturbed by voices and footsteps far away, Jollain can be found hiding behind a set of furniture, some kind of table. She blends in pretty well with the environment at this time, wearing dark clothes, cloak and a scarf which should cover her up for the most part. No armor today, as her mission forces her to move quickly, and she doesn’t want to take any chances. When she was younger, she used to make those kinds of mistakes, but that was rectified rather swiftly.

During the last several minutes, she has been shifting her position quite a lot, in order to get through the corridors, but she occasionally gets stalled when the guards aren’t moving fast enough. One such occasion is happening right now, as she waits for a couple of them to pass by. She needs to reach another passage to the right, but the people patrolling the routes nearby are being rather thorough with their duties. She can’t blame them for that, of course, but it does make her work kinda boring.

If she were in the capital, Jollain knows that she would be way more on edge. The Imperial Watch was always ready for individuals like her, as they were very familiar with the abilities and tactics of the Thieves Guild. Thankfully, these people are not. Not that they’re completely useless, but they’ve not prepared for skilled burglars like this bosmer.  
As a few of them wander into her corridor, she slips into the shadows, pushing herself against the wall in her crouched position and surveys their armors. It kinda looks like they’re wearing some kind of yellow scales, obviously bonemold, with some shells on their shoulders. The helmet is kinda jagged, with only a thin slit for the eyes. She doesn’t know much about Great House symbols, but these ones certainly have it imprinted in their gear.

Just as expected, they don’t even notice her, being oblivious to the fact that they’re walking past a rather capable criminal in the middle of the night. She doesn’t get too confident, though, waiting until they’re out of her sight past the next corner, before she actually starts to move.  
She sneaks forward, carefully and quietly, not wanting to get attention from anyone. She hasn’t heard anything about trained animals being used to sniff out thieves, but she’s not risking it. Eventually, she reaches the door to the correct room she was searching for, lifts a key that she has attained and unlocks it. It slides open without any issue and she slips inside.

As she enters the next section, it looks just as neat, expensive, and intricately decorated like most places in this gigantic area. She hadn’t thought about it when she first arrived, but the upper class really lives quite extravagantly here. It makes her snort, but not too sharply.  
She continues, searching for the right desk and then reaches for one of her belt pouches, making her hesitate. This isn’t the first time that she has entered the office of governmental figures, even on Vvardenfell. Such areas tend to be highly sought after, both for heists and for those who pay professionals to break in. The difference this time is that she’s not actually stealing anything, she’s dropping something off. 

Jollain goes to different corners, drawers, and boxes in the room, shoving a few pieces of paper into certain stacks, placing a dagger inside of a jar, and planting bottles of skooma into the desk drawers.  
All of this feels rather…bizarre, she has to admit. Her skillset is supposed to be used for taking things, not putting them down. But what else can she do? This is what her client paid for. She would argue with them, but if someone pays the Guild for it, and she’s given the task, how can she oppose it? She wants to rise in its ranks in order to be more useful for the Blades, and that means doing what her local guild leader tells her to. 

After she’s almost done, she widen her eyes, ears twitching slightly, as she hears noise from the outside. It sounds kind of like a bird in the distance, not one that you would usually hear in these parts. Knowing that this is a signal, she hurries towards the desk and decides to hide under it.  
Shortly after, the door swings open, with some light from a torch illuminating parts of the room, but not where Jollain is seated, thankfully. The person who entered moves around, not saying a word, seemingly looking for something. Jollain does her best to stay completely silent, holding a hand over her mouth to cover her breathing. She can feel the vibration of her heartbeats and how she clenches her other hand. She’s not actually all that afraid, but getting caught here would completely suck. She’s not even sure she could get out.

She feels incredibly lucky when it appears that the person found what they wanted, grabs it, and then leaves. She breathes out in relief, closing her eyes and holding a hand over her chest. Alright, time to finish this job up and get out of here.  
After she plants the last few items, she stealthily approaches the door again, listens for any potential movement on the outside, before exiting. She doesn’t forget to lock the door either, prior to her departure.

It takes a couple of more minutes to sneak through the same corridor again, approaching another section of the building. Eventually, she gets into another type of room, much less interesting to the guards in here, where she opens one of the windows and gazes outside. It’s dark, obviously, with only the stars and the moons giving her any kind of light. She leaps out in order to escape and hurries away from the building she just left as quickly as possible.

Somewhere in the darkness, she spots another figure, rather familiar – it’s the khajiit and her leader, Habasi. She is wearing a fairly similar outfit to Jollain’s, with robes, a hood, a scarf, a cloak and everything.  
Once the bosmer gets closer, Habasi lifts a hand and motions towards her own mouth, which is currently covered up. Jollain realizes what she means and immediately pulls up her scarf to protect her nose and mouth, a piece of clothing that Habasi had instructed her to purchase. 

The town they’re currently in is called Ald’ruhn, which is situated a few miles north of Balmora. It is ruled by a different Great House than the southern city, called House Redoran. She knows they have different goals, methods, and principles, something which she certainly appreciated here.  
Unfortunately, it is also placed at the edge of the Ashlands, which means it is often harassed by sandstorms and generally uncomfortable weather. At first, she thought about simply dismissing that as nothing special, but Habasi informed her of some kind of disease known as the Blight. It spreads through the storms, infecting both people and animals. The symptoms are severe too, causing strange growths and corrupting the internal systems of the victim, which distorts one’s function and structure. That sounds way more terrifying than the colds and flus she has survived, and she did not want to take any chances, which is why she bought protective clothing.

She stops not too far away from her guildmate, who sweeps the area quickly with her eyes. Khajiit do have good night vision, which certainly comes in handy here. A few moments later, she directs herself towards Jollain and speaks in a low volume.  
“How did it go? Did you succeed?”

Jollain snorts and shrugs.  
“Obviously. From all I heard and saw, it doesn’t seem like anyone noticed a single step. Dunno why they’re so sluggish here.”

“And what about your actual task?”

“Oh, yeah, planted everything. Got nothing more on me.”

Habasi inclines her head and then pats Jollain’s shoulder.  
“Glad to hear it, little one. You are becoming better with every job.”

Jollain rolls her eyes. She doesn’t know why Habasi keeps treating her like some kind of apprentice. It’s not like this is her first time being a thief.  
“Wish it could’ve been a bit more challenging.”

“Hah. Let us not get all too cocky, shall we?  
At any rate, now we come to the fun part – collecting our pay. Our contact should be waiting.”

Jollain makes a show of rubbing her hands together in glee, even if she’s not all too excited. She does enjoy getting more drakes, but the Blades already pay her more than enough. This is no more than a bonus. Maybe she can buy some new things, or share it with a friend. Perhaps a more expensive bottle of liquor to share with Tayerise?  
“Let’s do this then. Lead the way.”

Without another word, the duo sneaks back into the city once more, leaving the huge building which Jollain had been snooping around inside of, and instead make their way through houses and alleyways.  
In comparison to Balmora, Ald’ruhn is a very strange city. Sure, it’s smaller, but that’s not really the issue and not a surprising factor. The structures, walls, and stairs all look very different, much more organic than imperial or even Hlaalu design. Many buildings sort of resemble shells from various sea creatures or insects, even the guard towers, and the humongous Redoran Council building – the Under-Skar, as they call it – looks especially like some kind of enormous crab. From the history she has heard so far, it was in fact the carapace of an ancient giant grab, which was hollowed out and reshaped. Whether that’s truth or just myth, she doesn’t know. Either way, it just makes her feel even more like an outsider for judging it.

What is it with dunmer anyway? They ride giant bugs, have living gods, inhabit huge dead animals. Morrowind itself, or at least Vvardenfell, is strange too, especially with all kinds of trees instead being replaced by gigantic mushrooms in many places. She knows it’s judgmental to look at it that way, but she hasn’t had the best first experience. She has to remember that she’s not in Cyrodiil anymore. Things will not be the same.

On top of this, there is the design of the streets. Balmora sort of reminded her of imperial cities, as it is shaped in terms of easily classified rows, that can be numbered and written down on a list. One can find things there by simply following the numbers.  
In Ald’ruhn, nothing makes sense unless you know the politics of the land. Buildings are arranged in small groups, often facing each other, especially the manor of important people that they’re tied to. There are no rows, no numbers, no necessity for imperial order. To Jollain’s imperial-influenced mind, it’s like they just picked the first free spots that they could attain and then continued to build randomly. Of course, that’s just an exaggeration and if one were to ask the locals, they’d think she was stupid. 

She also can’t help but notice that the Redorans are not particularly interested in treating imperials with the same respect as the Hlaalu.  
Again, in Balmora, the Mages and Fighters Guilds are both in the very center of the market districts, in among all of the other buildings. One has to enter the city in order to reach them. Ald’ruhn has not cared for that, but instead merely placed such things in the outskirts. They look tacked on, forced to be there just because the Empire demanded it. Both of them are facing each other as well, and no other houses. The closer one stands to the Under-Skar, the more important you seem to be, and the Guilds are as far away as possible. 

One thing she’s pretty glad about, though, is the fact that the Redoran guards don’t actually seem as suspicious of people sneaking in between their houses. Part of that is obviously due to the design, which creates a lot of convenient alleyways everywhere, but the lack of a large number of outlanders definitely helps. The imperial Guilds are fairly small, and the area is pretty inhospitable, which doesn’t attract many non-dunmer. It appears the Redoran guards are more adamant about keeping people out, or searching them at the gates. Once you’re in, you’re pretty free to roam. They simply don’t expect the Thieves Guild up here. This may soon change, however, as Jollain and Habasi are here to improve the Guild’s standing.

Before she left with Habasi, she obviously asked Caius a few more questions. He informed her that House Redoran and the Imperial Legion have a sort of begrudging respect for one another, in their roles as fairly talented warriors. She considered wearing a Legion disguise of some kind before going in, but soon discarded that idea. How is she supposed to pose like a Legion soldier when she has to face an actual soldier? She can’t fight on their level and she definitely doesn’t know their lingo. Stealth was preferable.

She doesn’t quite know how, but Habasi can at least orient herself in this area, which is why she eventually takes them into a particular alley, where they are stopped by three individuals standing in similar clothes as the duo. All three of them are dunmer, and while none are wearing armor, Jollain knows that the two on the side are both members of the Redoran Guard.  
The one in the middle, the man who slowly pulls down his scarf and hood, is another familiar figure, who greets them.

“Ah, there you are. I’m glad to see you are on time”, he speaks quietly, almost in a whisper. “It seems you move as efficiently as was promised too.”

Athyn Sarethi. He is a somewhat older man, with light grey skin, pale red eyes, and slightly receded greying black hair. Even for his age, Jollain would probably describe him as a handsome man, as he is, but she also wouldn’t trust him. There’s something with his behavior, his tone of voice and his choices. Not to mention that it was he who hired them to perform the job that they’ve been planning for the duration of their short stay. He is ambitious, and everyone knows it.

“It is good to see you again, serjo Athyn”, Habasi mentions with a curt bow. Jollain mirrors it for now.

“And you as well, sera Habasi. Now, tell me, have you finished your task?”

Habasi glances at Jollain, letting her be the one to give the message and the bosmer crosses her arms over her chest and inclines her head.  
“Of course. I planted everything like you told me to.”

“Is that so? You will have to give me some details before I can be sure.”

Jollain takes a deep breath and starts counting off things on her hands. Habasi had warned her that he would be paranoid.  
“Right, well, I planted one skooma bottle in the second drawer of the desk, one in the box of the northwestern corner of the room, and the last inside a jar not too far from the door.”

“Which one was the empty bottle?”

“The one in the drawer.”

Athyn’s eyes study her intently, but he nods.  
“Good. Proceed.”

“After that, I placed a dagger inside the jar next to the cupboard on the western side, as well as another on the southeastern wall. I shoved the documents you gave me into the middle of the stack of paper on the desk, while I replaced the second pile inside the fourth drawer.”

Another nod, before he extends his hand.  
“You have them?”

She slides a hand into her clothes, and pulls something out from her shirt. It’s a small pile of papers, with all kinds of bureaucratic language.  
“I think these are the correct ones.”

He gives them a quick sweep, no more than ten seconds, before he hands it over to one of his guards and redirects his attention to the women.  
“Very well, sera Jollain. You performed your task admirably. I am satisfied. Were you spotted at any point?”

Jollain shakes her head.  
“Not at all. The guards were a little bit too relaxed, to be honest. Don’t think they expected one with my talents.”

Athyn snorts amusedly.  
“I don’t doubt it. They haven’t been properly trained for your Guild’s activities. Did anyone enter the room during the time you were there?”

“Uh, yeah, but they didn’t see me. They went in to grab something from the desk, not sure what, but it sounded like something heavier than the documents.”

She hopes this doesn’t displease him and while he runs a hand up to his chin in thought, he doesn’t get angry or annoyed.  
“Hmm, fascinating. Well, I suppose you achieved what I required of you.”  
He now looks at Habasi instead.  
“It appears you did what I asked, and I am willing to pay you.” He gestures at his guard to see to it. “After all the political groundwork I have laid out, this should be the last major scandal. The Councilor will likely lose his seat after this.”

Habasi takes the bag of gold they receive, opening it briefly to make sure that it contains roughly the right amount. She is much swifter than Athyn was with his documents, though, and quickly moves it in under her clothes.  
“This one is glad to hear it, and we hope this will be the start of a great business future between the Sarethi family and our Guild.”

Athyn looks slightly amused again.  
“As do I. I’m sure we will have much to speak of in the coming weeks. Your representatives need only contact me.  
For now, though, you must leave the city before morning arrives.”

It’s Jollain who reacts to this, appearing confused.  
“Uh, what? You want us to leave now? We’re supposed to travel through the wilderness at night? Being out there isn’t very pleasant…or safe.”

And here comes another part of him that she’s not super comfortable with. He merely shrugs in return.  
“I don’t care. There can be no traces of your arrival nor departure, or people might come to suspect something. You must leave quietly and now is the perfect time. Tomorrow, when accusations are thrown around, there must be absolutely no doubt of who is responsible. Otherwise, I can’t change the name on that seat.  
Of course, once it has been made, I will make sure that the Thieves Guild’s position here shall be strengthened. You have my word.”

These kinds of politics unnerve Jollain, and she can’t even hide it in her expression when she looks at Habasi. The khajiit doesn’t seem to share these concerns, however, as she practically glows with approval.  
“Habasi is immensely pleased with this outcome. We are very glad to have done successful business with a soon-to-be Councilor of House Redoran. I assure you, this will come to be the most useful choice you have ever made, serjo Athyn.”

“Let’s hope so. Safe travels to both of you.”

As soon as they depart, both women pull on their hoods and scarfs again, with Jollain mostly following Habasi out of the city. The bosmer does feel the need to mention something once they’ve reached a safe distance.  
“I don’t really trust that guy. I feel like he’s gonna be trouble for us in the future.”

In return, she hears a brief laughter from Habasi, before the khajiit looks back at her, eyes shimmering with amusement.  
“Little Jollain, you must learn the ways of Vvardenfell – everyone we do business with are trouble, because they know we are too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This guy will become somewhat important in the next fic, during one section of it, so I decided to present him here in a slightly different way from in-game. I know he's already a Councilor when you start, but I thought it would be more fun if the Thieves Guild helped him out._


	13. Divinity

During Jollain’s limited time on Vvardenfell, there are very few days that have offered a sunny, warm, and pleasant display for her, which she will admit has given her an unfair impression of the place. It’s not like the island itself can help what kind of weather flows through it; that’s up to the skies, the Divines, nature or…whatever. She doesn’t know and doesn’t care, because on this day, everything is different. The sun shines more brightly than ever, and despite the fact that she is more comfortable at night, she doesn’t mind the occasional warm day, as long as she can prepare herself for it, which she has.

At this time, she stands in a pretty smooth and loose green dress, one that she bought fairly recently. Not exactly the most expensive piece, nor does it have much decoration, but it’s comfortable and helps show off parts of her legs as well. As a light breeze passes by, it is not just the clothing but her hair which shifts around in the gentle embrace, due to it being allowed to hang freely today.  
Despite the much more casual outfit, it doesn’t mean that she is without protection. It’s not really possible to see it, but she has a dagger strapped around her waist, under the dress, which she can reach for fairly easily, should she need it.

While she sits and waits on the small rock wall next to the river, her eyes sweep the area, trying to locate a specific individual. It takes several minutes, but the other woman finally arrives. The Camonna guard, Tayerise, is spotted pretty easily even in a crowd, due to how tall she is. Jollain is a little bit disappointed that the dunmer doesn’t seem to have changed her gear much, still dressed in leather and bonemold, but she will admit that Tay looks fairly good in it.

Once she’s within range, Tay smiles at her new friend.  
“Good afternoon.”  
Her red eyes slowly survey Jollain.  
“Quite…unusual to see you in a dress.”

Jollain smirks and stands up, placing her hands confidently at her hips.  
“What, you don’t like it?”

Hesitating momentarily, Tay lifts a hand to scratch at her neck.  
“Uh, no I…I think you look very good. Great, in fact.”

She can’t really explain why yet, but it’s always amusing to make this dunmer a bit embarrassed.  
“Glad you approve! I picked it up for a pretty reasonable price too.”

“I don’t doubt it. You are very…charismatic. Although, I feel like I’m not outfitted properly for whatever you had in mind.”

It’s not like Tay’s gear makes her fully prepared for combat, but it’s definitely more than needed for this excursion.  
“True, but I’m not taking the blame for it. I did tell you to dress loosely!”

Tay shrugs.  
“Well, this is what I usually wear when I’m given such a description.”

“Tsk, I don’t believe that. I bet you’ve got some nice shirts hiding under all your piles of chest plates back home.”

The joking seems to have a positive effect, at least to a certain degree, as Tay arches her brow skeptically.  
“You really think I arrange my equipment in piles?”

“Are you telling me that you don’t?”

“Of course I don’t! I wouldn’t be so careless with my armors! I feel insulted that you even mention it.”

The wording may be serious, but the tone is humorous, which makes Jollain giggle, something that seems to have been intended, as Tay smiles.  
“Well, anyway, I guess this will have to do for now. We can maybe go shopping later. Either way, I’m glad you’re here. I thought we could do something together.”

Tay glances around the area, seeing that it’s not exactly empty, which she hadn’t expected. They’re in the middle of the city, and a lot of people wander across this district every day.  
“…out here?”

“Sort of. I was gonna take a walk around the edges of the city, following the river. Wondered if you wanted to join me.”

She actually feels a little awkward about what she says because, well, she can’t remember ever making that kind of request before. Do friends ask each other to take walks for no particular reason? Jollain hasn’t really had many friends, just colleagues, partners, and acquaintances. Perhaps it’s a bit early to give Tay such a title, but she kinda likes this woman and would hope it could develop into…something.  
On the other side, Tay looks mildly surprised.

“A…walk? I know you told me to meet by the river, but I hadn’t expected you wanted to something that simple.”

Jollain turns her head up, gazing at the blue sky above them.  
“Well, it’s such a sunny day, the wind is calm, and I’ve not had much chance to enjoy my surroundings outside of Labor Town. Feels like a waste to not take the opportunity for it, you know? Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

Thankfully, Tay offers her a pleasant smile.  
“No, not at all. I’d love to join you. If you had given me more details, though, maybe I would’ve brought less equipment.”

“Tsk! Well, if you actually listened to me, you wouldn’t have had to consider stuff like that!”

“I…suppose you’re right. Sorry.”

Despite shaking her head in disbelief, Jollain doesn’t feel the need to tease her all too much.  
“If you want, we could head back to my place and drop your gear off first. It’ll be safe in my apartment, I promise.”

It’s not like Tay is wearing a ridiculous amount, but she does carry her axe, along with a few pouches around her belt.  
“No, it’s fine. I suppose I get some free exercise this way, which I can always use more of.”

Jollain looks at her skeptically, before she eyes the woman in front of her. She hasn’t seen all of it so far, but what little has been exposed has shown her that Tay is actually pretty robust under all that protective material.  
“You sure? Could’ve fooled me. Feels like you keep yourself in very good shape already.”

Tay clears her throat, lowering her gaze towards the ground in embarrassment. She really is adorable when she does that.  
“You…have a point.”

She could probably do this all day, but Jollain really does want to get going. She smiles, nudges her elbow into Tay’s side and then nods towards the road ahead.  
“Let’s get going then.”  
The wind increases its pace for a short while as they begin wandering along the river, tossing Jollain’s hair around some more, but it’s not to an unbearable degree.  
“Got anything more to say about my clothes?”

Fishing for compliments? Not exactly something she does very often, but she can’t deny the amusement she gains by prodding reactions from this woman.  
Tay scans the dress once more.  
“Well, erm…it’s quite stylish, I suppose?”, she says a bit shyly. “I don’t know much about dresses.”

“Heh, don’t wear a lot of them?”

“I don’t have much use for them in my line of work. And…I also don’t feel comfortable in that type of clothing. I prefer trousers.”

Jollain chuckles.  
“You know, somehow, I don’t doubt that at all. Personally, I don’t mind the ones which give me a bit of space. Not that I’d ever wear it when I have to be busy, but it’s nice on my off days.”

“Is this one new?”

“Yep, bought it from one of the local tailors. That guy designs some pretty decent robes and other longer outfits.”  
She strokes her hand along the cloth, feeling the fairly gentle and yet sturdy material. Not quite as incredibly smooth as the most expensive attires in the capital, but it’s still good.  
“I’ve never worn Morrowind-style clothes before, but it’s a lot more comfortable than I had expected. Might try to buy some more stuff later.”

Even if Tay may not have anything to do with clothing, it seems to make her happy to hear praise for her people’s efforts and she smiles.  
“I’m glad you think so. I wouldn’t mind helping you get an opportunity to try out some different styles. Morrowind, and even Vvardenfell alone, has more than one type of design. If you like this, then I’m sure you would enjoy those too. I could show you some of my favorites.”

An unusually forward invitation, which makes Jollain question if Tay realizes it.  
“Hmm, is that so?”, Jollain asks while smirking. “Already letting me try on your clothes, huh? That’s some quick friendship development.”

Tay hesitates, and practically seems to be blushing now.  
“Uh, I…I didn’t mean mine.”

Jollain can’t help herself when she starts to laugh and gently bumps into the dunmer.  
“Sure, you didn’t.”

As their journey continues, it is not completely silent for the entire duration, but towards the other side of the city, it starts to get even louder. They witness how a crowd has gathered on the northern section of Labor Town. These people are surrounding two specific individuals, who stands on some kind of elevated position, perhaps some boxes or a stage.  
It’s a man and a woman, both of them dressed in blue robes with yellow or golden decorative patterns across the center of the clothes. Their hoods are pulled up to hide their hairs, but the faces are still very visible. On the sides, they are flanked and guarded by a group of four armored soldiers, in ornate golden-plated gear and masks that seem to replicate dunmer faces – Ordinators.  
When Jollain and Tay walk past them, they can hear how the man is speaking quite loudly as he reads from some kind of book.

“I am Vehk, your protector and the protector of Red Mountain until the end of days, which are numbered 3333. Below me is the savage, which we needed to remove ourselves from the Altmer. Above me is a challenge, which bathes itself in fire and the essence of a god. Through me you are desired, unlike the prophets that have borne your name before.  
Six are the walking ways, from enigma to enemy to teacher. Boethiah and Azura are the principles of the universal plot, which is begetting, which is creation, and Mephala makes of it an art form.  
For by the sword I mean the first night.  
For by the word I mean the dead.  
There will be a splendor in your name when it is said to be true.  
Six are the guardians of Veloth, three before and they are born again, and they will test you until you have the proper tendencies of the hero. There is a world that is sleeping, and you must guard against it.  
For by the sword I mean the dual nature.  
For by the word I mean animal life.  
For by the sword I mean preceded by a sigh.  
For by the word I mean preceded by a wolf.  
The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.”

During the time he reads this, those who stand around the duo – mostly dunmer – either watch in silence, keep their hands together in a prayer, or lower their heads in contemplation. Once he is finished with this particular text, though, they all seem to react and speak in a unified, albeit calm manner.  
“Praise Almsivi. Praise Vivec.”

Jollain and Tay choose to stay quiet for now, at least until they’ve gone past the group and get closer towards the exit. When they’re finally out of reach, the bosmer decides to speak up again.  
“Gotta say, I’m still not fully used to that sort of thing.”

Tay turns to watch her curiously.  
“No? Is it…unusual? Do they not have sermons in the capital? For…the Divines or whatever.”

Jollain briefly shakes her head.  
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, they do, although not always in this exact way. It’s still a little weird for me to hear people speak about a different set of gods than the Nine in public. Also, the imperial priests were never guarded by soldiers.”

It appears she made Tay understand, who nods in thought and scratches her chin.  
“Ah, that makes sense. It is slightly different here, I suppose. It’s true that the Ordinators are always everywhere, in order to protect the faith. We’re so used to it here that we never question it. It’s just how the Temple works.”

“Mm, guess so. There were even more of ‘em in Vivec City. I was there a couple of weeks ago and it was uh, interesting.”  
She places her arms behind her back, turning her eyes to the road ahead.  
“I still don’t know a whole lot about that type of faith.”

“No? If you wish, I could give you some information. I’m no priest, but I’ve grown up with it.”

Jollain offers her smile to her companion.  
“Sure, if you don’t mind. I’d appreciate any help I can get. I wanna fit in.”

Tay rolls her shoulders around a bit while she thinks about what to say. She tries to remember what she was taught by the priests when she was young.  
“In essence, the Tribunal faith is about worshipping the three living gods of Morrowind.”

“Almalexia, Sotha Sil and Vivec, right? I’ve heard the names, but that’s about it.”

“Correct”, she says with a mildly surprised smile. “You pronounce them accurately as well.”

Jollain grins sheepishly.  
“Well, I try. I’ve heard them spoken quite a lot, though, when people pray or hope for welfare around here.”

“Of course. To elaborate a bit on their names, we see them in three different ways - Almalexia the Healing Mother, Vivec the Warrior-Poet, and Sotha Sil the Architect of Time.”

She hears a brief whistle from the bosmer.  
“Pretty impressive titles, huh?”

“Well, they have earned them throughout our history. They each rule and determine different domains, with separate worships and purposes.  
Almalexia is found in the south, around the capital of Morrowind, Mournhold. She is immensely loved there for all she has done, and for all she is capable of. She is a healer, a protector, and a source of warmth.  
Vivec’s focus is up here, in Vvardenfell. Since you’ve seen his city, you probably realize why, as it’s quite a spectacular place. He is both a ferocious warrior and a thoughtful poet. He represents the duality of the dunmer and the chimer, as well as reality itself.”

Jollain can’t help but snort amusedly.  
“Sounds very…mysterious.”

“I know, which is sort of the purpose as well. Even if it is true, Sotha Sil earns that trait much further. In some areas, he is even known as the ‘Mystery of Morrowind’. He is a patron of artists, mages, and artisans. It is said he lives in a place called Clockwork City, although it’s…hard to tell where that is. I’ve never seen it, but I suppose there may be a pilgrimage involved in attempting to find it.”  
Tay raises her arms to fold them, getting caught in her memories and possibly her own belief.  
“According to our history books, the Three have helped guard Morrowind from ancient enemies, and through discipline, virtue, supernatural wisdom and insight, they gained divinity. Ever since then, they have protected the dunmer from almost any dangers, pretty much all that have befallen this nation.  
The Tribunal also takes care of their believers. They distribute food and certain healthcare for the poor, and many temples offer reading, writing and counting lessons to children. I was schooled in one, for example.”

She doesn’t just sound like she’s trying to give information, but speaks with a certain amount of awe too.  
“Sounds like they’re not just gods, but heroes too?”, Jollain asks.

Tay nods in agreement.  
“Yes, to us, they are. If you have been to Vivec City, you have probably seen Baar Dau, right?”

Jollain scratches her cheek in thought, but doesn’t remember that name. However, if they’re talking about Vivec, it can only be one thing, right?  
“Oh, uh, you mean that rock in the sky? Someone called it the ‘Ministry of Truth’.”

“That…is also one of its names, yes. Nevertheless, it was prevented from crashing by Vivec.”

Even if she doesn’t actually know whether it’s alright or not, Jollain hesitates. She knows she can’t ignore more of what she was told.  
“Yeah, I…heard as much. But uh, it’s also a little bit scary. If he’s a god, can’t he simply move it or whatever?”

She hopes that the question won’t anger Tay and, thankfully, the dunmer doesn’t seem particularly agitated. She just shrugs.  
“I don’t know. I can’t say I’m aware of how that would work. History has claimed that it was Sheogorath, the daedric prince of madness, who flung it out from Oblivion and attempted to crush the city. Apparently, it cannot be tossed back, only stopped.”

To Jollain, that sounds like an excuse, but she also realizes how rude it would be to suggest that.  
“I suppose I can’t question it. He’s the god, so I assume he knows more than me.  
Anyway, what about you? Do you worship the Tribunal?”

Tay meets her gaze for a few seconds, probably contemplating the question.  
“I do, yes. Not as fiercely as some other people, perhaps, but I still believe. What they have done for our people is truly amazing.”

“Don’t you get a little unnerved by having the gods right here, though? Like, living in your land.”

Tay raises her eyebrow confusedly.  
“No, not really. Why would I? Perhaps you are not used to the gods being present in Cyrodiil, but I feel it’s quite comforting. Our gods are ready to protect us against any threat and at any point. I think they are both admirable and brave.”

Jollain nods slowly, but even Tay can see that there’s still some skepticism on her features.  
“I guess that’s mostly true, but not from everything, right? They didn’t actually stop the Empire from claiming your land, did they? Tiber Septim did eventually incorporate Morrowind into his nation, after all.”

She feels guilty only seconds later, when she notices uncertainty and slight sorrow on Tay’s face.  
“You…are right, of course, but I still believe in the wisdom of Almsivi. Surely, they must have had a reason.”

Jollain exhales and eagerly shakes her head.  
“Shit, I’m sorry. That was very rude. I didn’t mean to question your faith or anything. I’m just…confused.”

Such emotions luckily don’t have to linger for long, as Tay places a hand on her shoulder.  
“Don’t worry, I understand. It must be quite overwhelming to experience so many new concepts after having lived only in the Imperial City your whole life.  
The Temple does accept outlanders among their faithful, though, if you are ever interested in learning or becoming a member.”

Looking up from her position, Jollain merely smiles.  
“Thanks. I’m not very religious to begin with, but I might give it some thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, the text that the priest was reading from is a section from a volume in the 36 Lessons of Vivec. I figured it would be decent to use something like that in a public sermon._   
>  _The matter of Tay's faith and her background will become a topic for later chapters, so I'm not done with her yet._


	14. Matters of diplomacy

Along the rocky area southeast of Balmora lies the imperial construction known as Fort Moonmoth. It’s one of several Legion outposts on Vvardenfell, working as a base of operations for the military efforts within the West Gash region, as well as a center for imperial authority. It’s better fortified and armed than many of the native military outposts, but doesn’t always maintain as high number of soldiers as the forces of the Great Houses or the Ordinators. That said, the Legionnaires are skilled and efficient, meaning they often manage to outdo most of their foes anyhow.  
Most of the sounds heard from within usually originate from people performing exercises, sparring, or officers handing out orders. Today, however, inside the most important office in the Fort, arguing voices can be heard coming out the window. One of them speaks with a southern Cyrodiilic accent, while the other carries something closer to the local flavor.

“As I said, Legate, we don’t currently have the resources to delegate for your investigation.”

Legate Asta Svalen of the Thirteenth Legion, commander of Fort Moonmoth, sighs disappointingly as she stands behind her desk, folding her arms. In fact, neither she nor the auburn-haired Temple Ordinator in front of her have chosen to sit. In a way, it just adds even more to the tension between them than what has already been erupting.  
“Nothing whatsoever? Surely you must realize what an important security matter this is for the entire imperial effort here.”

She notices how the scowl on the man in front of her deepens even further. She’s well aware that they do not like being included in the Empire’s list of territories.  
“Then maybe the Empire should focus on giving you more resources to handle such a task, and not bother us.”

Not that she actually believed that it would be possible to get much from them, but surely some kind of cooperation would’ve been doable.  
Asta leans forward and places her hands upon the desk, gazing deeper into his red eyes. Like with most others, she’s taller than him.  
“This isn’t just about resources, dammit. You know this place better than anyone, and I’m sure your people would be able to slip into locations that we can't quite reach.”

The Ordinator has his arms behind his back, and two more of his golden-armored fellows stand just by the wall, not too far away from the door.  
“Are you saying the Legion cannot perform the tasks that you’ve been assigned? All the official messages we receive speak quite differently.”

She shakes her head, not seeing what the purpose of bringing up the stupid propaganda would be, which is distributed quite widely in order to entice the people of Morrowind to join their ranks. Most of it is heavily embellished, after all, something they’re both aware of.  
“Come on now, this is your island and-“

He takes a step forward, his glare sharpening, and he nods.  
“Yes, it is, Legate. And if you don’t like it here or doubt your ability to handle your own faction’s assignments, then you’re free to leave.”

The tone displays his emotions clearly and makes her realize that things will not go any further. She stands up straighter again and exhales in defeat, then waves dismissively at him.  
“Fine, have it your way. We’re done here.”

The man and the two other Ordinators salute quickly, although it’s far from an earnest motion. He grabs his helmet from the desk, puts it back on and they march out of the room.  
Asta approaches the window at the side of her office, which gives her a good view over the fort as well as the surrounding district of the West Gash. Her eyes wander, but her mind is filled with the disappointing realization that she is coming no further in her investigation. Her superiors have urged the serious need of keeping things tactful upon her, and convincing the natives to help out, but she’s not much for diplomacy to begin with. She’s a soldier and that’s what she is trained for, but as a high-ranking officer within the Legion there’s a lot more expected of her; perhaps too much for her taste.

“Well, they’re sour as always, aren’t they?”

The softer voice coming from the doorway makes her twitch, just barely noticeable, and she swirls around to face the unwelcomed visitor. Moments later, she sighs as she spots the familiar features of Jollain, the bosmer she sent to Caius Cosades several weeks prior. They have met once or twice afterwards, and somehow, the elf manages to sneak up on her every time.  
“I’d appreciate if you could announce yourself in a timelier fashion.”

Jollain arches an eyebrow amusedly, leaning against the side of the door frame, and then curls her lips into a smirk.  
“Did I startle ya, Legate? I thought you soldier types had nerves of steel.”

She rolls her eyes, moves back to the desk and proceeds to sit down on her chair. At least she feels somewhat more comfortable with this woman, rather than the Ordinator, or perhaps just less threatened. Then again, it probably should be the other way around.  
“If you’re here, I’m guessing he has already caught wind of the latest rumors, then.”

Proceeding further inside, Jollain closes the door behind her and then strolls up to the desk, sitting down on top of it rather than the other chair. It brings an annoyed frown to the Legate’s forehead, but that was likely the point anyway.  
“Dunno, really. He told me to get what information you had, and that you’d know what he meant.”

Caius rarely deals in matters of being straightforward. Or, well, he does, but those things often need to be wrapped within subtle hints, rather than direct requests.  
Asta opens up her desk drawer to look for a few objects.  
“Yeah, I know what he wants. Close the window shutters, will you?”

Jollain looks questioningly at her to begin with, then huffs as she gets off the desk and does as she’s asked. It appears Asta takes the opportunity to order the bosmer around whenever she can. Doesn’t stop Jollain from sitting back down on the desk, though.  
“No need for too many notes, ‘cause I think I’ll remember what you have to say.”

“It’s best that you do, for this is crucial information.”  
She doesn’t push the elf off her desk when she lifts a note out from it, but keeps the piece of paper in her hand. She does unfold a scroll on the surface of it, however, and Jollain leans back further to see the text on top.  
“A couple of days ago, an imperial official was murdered in the city of Caldera.”

There’s no need to read the text really, because those words alone bring a level of shock.  
“Whoa, okay. Like, killed by some rival or…?”

Asta raises an eyebrow doubtfully.  
“Rival? No, such things rarely happen among our officials, at least not in this province. He was assassinated, by what we would guess was a professional.”

“Oh…great. Well, that’s never fun.”

“No, it certainly isn’t, but this is not the first one either. In the past six months, there’s been at least a handful of assassinations of important imperial officials on Vvardenfell, of different stations and ranks.”

Jollain scratches the back of her other hand a bit worryingly.  
“Okay uhm, is that unusual here? I mean, the dunmer have never been happy with your presence, right?”

“They haven’t and while the first year or so on Vvardenfell was tough, as we were met with a lot of resistance, that soon calmed down and for several years now, things have stayed that way. Not that there isn’t some hostility, but it hasn’t turned into violence since. It seems that may have changed.”

The agent nods slowly, trying to read some of the information upon the scroll, but most of it doesn’t mean much to her.  
“Do you have any suspects?”

Asta lifts a hand and strokes it through her short black hair.  
“Not any individuals, no, but we’ve been investigating some of the groups here that may have been responsible. We discounted the Dark Brotherhood, for they don’t really operate much in Vvardenfell. Morag Tong was previously at the top of our list of most likely culprits, possibly on behalf of the Great Houses, but their efforts usually end more ‘honorably’, if you wish to call it that.”

Jollain gazes at her with some uncertainty.  
“Yeah, I’ve met one of ‘em. Not sure murder can ever be called ‘honorable’, though.”

The nord sighs briefly.  
“Well, that’s how they choose to see it, anyhow. We also suspected Camonna Tong, as they have no love for imperial control, especially not with how we regulate trade and try to stop their smuggling operations. But we’ve got proof for neither, and the latest development has sent us in another direction.”

Jollain’s eyes follow Asta’s hand when she places the note on the desk now, on top of the scroll. It depicts some kind of symbol, which appears to have been copied onto it.  
The shape is unfamiliar to her; in essence it consists of two circles with mixes of squares, oval shapes and triangles within. The center of the piece, however, has two objects pointed towards each other which sort of makes her think of twin pincers, or the jaws of some kind of insect. She tilts her head curiously, as she tries to find out how to decipher it.  
“What is that? Some kind of mark?”

“We don’t know as of yet, for we haven’t seen it before.”  
Asta crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.  
“It was carved into the chest of the man who was assassinated, however.”

That makes Jollain widen her eyes and she turns sharply to Asta again.  
“Pardon? Like…into his skin?”

“Yes.”

“Whoa…whoa now. That’s quite…”

“Disturbing? Yes, I know. I thought the same.”

Jollain looks at the symbol once more, but it doesn’t give her any further explanation.  
“Has this happened before, or…?”

“No, it hasn’t, which is why it got our attention. That was likely the killer’s intention too, but doesn’t help us much.”

“You don’t recognize it at all?”

Asta shakes her head, grabbing the scroll to roll it back up, but keeps the image on the table.  
“It’s not something we’ve ever seen used by any major guilds here, at least. Most of them have some kind of mark which we know of, but this was entirely new.”

The idea of the unknown doesn’t help settle Jollain’s discomfort much, and there’s something unsettling with the shape of the symbol itself. She eventually exhales shortly and takes the note.  
“Well, not sure I can add much to it, but maybe Caius can.”

“That’s what I’m hoping as well. Someone is wiping out people from our ranks, both military and administrative, and we still don’t know if it’s systematic or random. We don’t know the motives, nor the origin. We need information of any kind, and if someone can find something about it, Caius is the one I’d trust the most. Make sure you get that safely to him.”

Jollain nods slowly and then places it within the inner pocket of her clothes.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll see that he gets it. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find out more soon.”  
She jumps off the table, but doesn’t leave for the door just yet.  
“So, the Ordinators aren’t all too interested in helping out, I guess?”

Asta scowls for a moment, thinking back to her previous conversation, and ones she has had with representatives of other factions on Vvardenfell.  
“Not really, no. And neither are the Great Houses. They’ve all got their own problems to deal with, apparently.”

“Well, there are troubles in Morrowind right now, from what I hear. At least in Balmora, you feel the tension from time to time.”

She nods and understands, but still doesn’t truly feel sympathetic to it.  
“I know that this is the case, but…I wish we had more jurisdiction on Vvardenfell. It’s hard to get anything done when we have to go through several other officials to convince them to help out just a tiny bit.  
We’re all part of the Empire, but we never get help when we need it the most.”

Jollain smiles faintly and shrugs.  
“Well yeah, but maybe they feel the same about you guys? Besides, I’ve heard that many still see this as an occupation.”

That argument makes Asta rub her forehead in annoyance, something she has heard many times before.  
“Morrowind joined the Empire long ago and has been part of it for hundreds of years. It’s time the Great Houses recognize that.”

“True, but Vvardenfell has only been under direct imperial control for like a decade, right? They probably don’t feel you have a place here. It’ll take time for them to change their minds, I bet.”

Asta can think of many ways she’d wish to retort, but eventually locks her eyes with the bosmer, looking somewhat amused.  
“Seems like you’ve come to understand this place.”

Jollain smirks once more and places her hands at her hips.  
“This is my home now, so I gotta learn something about it, right? Besides, I’ve gotten to know several people since I arrived and learned more about the land. I kinda like it here.”

Asta snorts and places one elbow against her armrest, leaning the hand up to her chin.  
“I suppose that is some kind of development. Just keep in mind who you work for, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about that – I know where the gold comes from.”

She winks and waves as she angles herself towards the door and moves forward. Before she leaves, Asta’s voice is heard one last time.  
“Hey!”  
Jollain blinks and peers over her shoulder.  
“Stay out of trouble, okay?”

With another curl of her lips, she grabs the handle to the door and opens it up.  
“Didn’t know you’d suddenly turned into my mother.”


	15. Unknowing cover

Jollain’s opinion on early mornings hasn’t really changed during her stay in Morrowind. She still thinks that it’s an impossible thing to achieve on a regular basis and it’s practically torture for anyone to be exposed to such conditions.  
Well, that might be…a slightly exaggerated view of the situation, but it’s almost what it feels like to her. Or it might do, if she had ever actually been tortured. Either way, she questions the necessity.

Caius apparently has a tendency to call her to him at that time of day and she can’t say she’s particularly fond of such behavior. Does he do it on purpose, because he knows how she’ll react, or is she just unlucky?  
At any rate, she makes her way through Labor Town shortly after most of the local workforce has wandered off to their various tasks. Not that she minds their presence, but she is not one who enjoys large crowds, and there’s quite a lot of them.

When she steps inside of Caius’ house, she is fairly surprised to see that he’s not alone, for someone else is waiting with him for once.  
“Maak! Hey buddy, what are you doing here?”, she asks with a smile on her lips. She won’t deny that she has become increasingly glad to see him. He is quite a good friend, despite his regularly sour mood.

The argonian snorts amusedly and nudges his head towards the human’s location.  
“Caius asked me to join in on this meeting as well. My expertise is needed, apparently.”

“Is that so? Heh, guess this means we’ll be working together again.”

“I suppose you’re right. Have to say that I’m quite amazed to see you, though. I didn’t know if you were physically capable of awakening at this hour any more, after our trip to Vivec.”

That he’s teasing her about it might not be enjoyable for everyone, but she thinks it's quite funny. Means that he’s probably more comfortable in her company now, or that’s what she assumes.  
After she smirks, she wanders up to him and playfully pokes his side. He’s not ticklish or anything, but it won’t stop her.  
“Shut up! It’s not like I can’t do it or anything, it’s just a bit too much for me when we have to rise so insanely early! At least this meeting isn’t at an ungodly hour.”

“Depends what god you ask.”

“Well, I’d say this is fairly reasonable. I mean, I even managed to have breakfast and tea first! What a luxury, right?”

She glances sideways then, seeing that Caius is already observing her with skeptical eyes.  
“You know, if you want to file some official complaints, I’m sitting right here”, he tells her.

Jollain grins and places her hands at her hips.  
“Who, me? C’mon, Caius, you know I’d never do that! It’s not like I would ever insinuate that our spymaster has some kind of weird obsession with following a strict schedule of rising early in the morning with the sun or anything, despite that _some of us_ have to be up at night.”

“That would just be ridiculous”, Maak comments. “Our superior definitely wouldn’t treat us that way.”

“Nope! Our spymaster clearly cares about us more than correct protocol. And he definitely doesn’t send us on difficult and dangerous missions under such pressures either.”

“Definitely not.”

Caius sighs and shakes his head.  
“Alright, fine, I get it. You have made your point. I suppose I should be glad that you’re getting along to some degree, at least.”

Jollain smirks.  
“Only when it comes to outnumbering you.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Maak nods to confirm it.  
“I also would not use those exact words. I would simply explain it by saying that Jollain is slightly less annoying than she used to be.”

“Pfff, yeah, thanks for that one, pal.”

Caius clears his throat then, giving the signal that it’s time to get more serious.  
“At any rate, I believe it’s time we switch topics. I’m glad to hear that you have already had your meal, because that means I don’t have to see to it. We should get straight to business instead, as that’s why you’re both here. I have another joint mission for you.”

Before he can continue, he hears a brief sigh from Jollain. She folds her arms, still standing next to the table, as the men are seated on the chairs.  
“Why am I not surprised? You’re not sending us to Vivec again, are you?”

“No, but you will have to go outside of Balmora. In fact, you’re going even further away.”

Jollain rolls her eyes.  
“Of course.”

“This time, I’m gonna have to ask both of you to take a trip to Sadrith Mora.”

There’s a lot of settlements on Vvardenfell, and Jollain has to say that she hasn’t fully memorized them yet, which is why she looks confused.  
“Sadrith…Mora? Uh, can’t say that I remember that one.”

“Sadrith Mora is the district seat of House Telvanni on Vvardenfell”, Maak explains. “It’s found off the eastern coast, along the many islands out there.”

Jollain scratches the back of her head.  
“Oh, uh…Telvanni. That’s the mage house, right?”

Caius nods curtly.  
“Yes, that’s what they’re most famous for. Sadrith Mora has the Telvanni Council building within its borders, but it’s best known for the wizard owning the city, Master Neloth. However, none of that is as important as why I’m sending you to that location.  
I don’t suppose it’s very surprising to hear, but we have agents all over Vvardenfell. Maybe not every town, but at least every major settlement. This includes Sadrith Mora. Now, that city is a pretty big place, but it’s difficult for most non-dunmer to get anywhere in there, as the Telvanni are quite hostile to outlanders. In fact, there’s even a slave market on one of the main streets, where they do sell a lot of people, mostly non-dunmers.”

Shortly after he says this, Jollain widens her eyes, while Maak frowns.  
“Yeah, and argonians in particular”, he says.

The bosmer clears her throat uncomfortably.  
“…right. That’s not great.”

Caius exhales and shakes his head, looking somewhat tired.  
“No, it’s not. I’m not a fan of it either, and I know for a fact that various Emperors have tried to negotiate with the Great Houses to have it be made illegal, but the process is slow and not always very effective.  
However, I’m telling you of it now, so that you realize what the situation is and that you also can’t interfere with this process. It’s not our place to do so, as we are just the Emperor’s eyes and ears, not his enforcers.”

Jollain strokes a hand through her hair, trying to seem less bothered by the thought of it, even if she’s not.  
“Not like I could do it anyway. Brute force has never been my thing.”

“Well, don’t even have such thoughts on your mind, because it’s not why you’re there. The reason I told you this is to let you know how hostile they can be, which is why the agent we hired to be located in that region was a dunmer.  
Her name is Devrama and I recruited her a couple of years ago. She grew up in eastern Cheydinhal and spent several years working for the Fighters Guild in mainland Morrowind. After assessing her, I decided that she was definitely Blades material. Later on, we sent her off to infiltrate Telvanni territory.”

“She wasn’t originally a citizen?”

“No, but she has lived in Morrowind long enough to not be seen as an outlander, even more so due to being dunmer.  
During the years she has been working for us, she has done very well for herself, always sending regular and valuable reports on Telvanni activity. This process stopped a few weeks ago.”

Maak tilts his head curiously.  
“Stopped? You didn’t hear from her or she quit?”

“The former. One day, she just suddenly went silent and I have not heard from her since.”

Caius manages to keep his tone quite even, his gaze fairly calm, and yet the duo listening both feel like there’s something wrong, as if he’s worried.  
“You think something happened to her?”, Jollain asks.

“That’s what I will send you two to find out. As Sadrith Mora is not only far away, but out in the sea, there are only two ways to get to it – teleportation or boat. There are several of the latter available in various ports, but for the former, one would have to speak with the Mages Guild. I couldn’t have her traveling back and forth through the Guild all too often, and my role certainly doesn’t allow for it, in order to keep my alibi, so we tended to rely on messenger birds or couriers to deliver reports. But, like I said, I haven’t received any in a few weeks and it’s now becoming suspicious. I need to know if something went wrong over there.  
As you two are not only the ones closest to my area that I can speak to directly, but also some of those I trust the most, I have to ask you both to go there. Your alibi should be simple to obtain, as the Thieves Guild has a presence in that city. You can pretend she’s a contact.”

Jollain nods slightly.  
“Mm, that’s true. Don’t think that’ll be much of an issue. But uh, you said we might have problems getting inside the city because we’re outsiders, right?”

“Well, they will be suspicious, yes. I assume there’s going to be a lot of eyes watching you. Certain parts of the city are inaccessible for outlanders, although there are workarounds.”

The bosmer starts to smile mysteriously.  
“Yeah, about that. What if I have one such workaround?”

Caius arches his eyebrow.  
“What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe it’s difficult to get inside as a non-dunmer, but what if we brought a dunmer with us?”  
  


* * *

  
There’s few places in Balmora that Jollain would see as absolutely secure to meet anyone. Caius’ apartment is obviously a good spot, as is her own, but neither of those are appropriate for more public encounters. After being associated with the Thieves Guild for a while, she has now come to see the South Wall cornerclub as much safer than it used to be, and she occasionally holds such encounters in there. This is why she is currently sitting in a corner together with her two companions to discuss their little plan.

“Right, so maybe I should make introductions first. Maak, let me introduce a friend of mine, Tayerise. She’s probably the only non-Guild member I know so far. Tayerise, this is Maak-Veh. He’s…a good friend.”

The two have never met each other, but the argonian has obviously heard of Tay through Jollain. It seemed like an important aspect to let her Blades contacts know who she associates with, partially to make sure they don’t act against Tay, but also to decrease potential suspicion of Jollain. She may watch others for the Emperor, but there are those who would watch her just as much, unless she explains herself.

The handshake they share is quite stiff.  
“It’s…nice to meet you, Maak-Veh”, Tay says somewhat hesitantly, but she tries her best to look friendly.

Maak, on the other hand, doesn’t make as much of an effort, retaining a rather neutral expression.  
“You too. I have heard a little bit about you from Jollain and I hope our potential association will go well.”

The term sounds quite awkward, even to Jollain, which is why she decides to interfere before it gets weird.  
“So, we called you here to discuss something, Tay. We wanted to know if you’d like to do us a favor…sort of. We need some help.”

Even if Maak and Jollain are sitting next to each other on their side, Tay obviously seems more comfortable looking at the bosmer.  
“Oh, okay. Well, for you, I’d definitely consider it, so I’m listening.”

Jollain can’t stop herself from smiling at first, and Maak would roll his eyes if it wouldn’t be quite inappropriate at this time.  
“Well, you see, we’re making a trip all the way to Sadrith Mora. We have some important business to attend to over there.”

The name makes Tay widen her eyes.  
“Sadrith Mora? That’s a…strange place for you to have business in. It’s on the other side of Vvardenfell.”

“Heh, yeah, I know that. Normally, it wouldn’t be within reach for us, but some stuff has come up. It involves”, she lifts a finger and spins it around quickly, “you know.”

It’s not a complex code, but not much more is needed either, as comprehension appears in Tay’s eyes.  
“Oh. I get it. Well, I guess I can see the difficulty in your assignment.”

“Have you been to that city?”

“I have, although it has been many years now since my last visit. I was fairly young when it happened.”  
She puts her hands around the mug of mazte that she purchased earlier, looking down into it.  
“It’s a very different place from Balmora, for many reasons. Even for someone like me, it can be quite difficult to wander around, due to distrust and politics. They don’t like outlanders, but that can often extend to pretty much all outsiders, until we have shown to be worth the effort of caring.”

Jollain folds her arms, resting them on the table while she considers some of the stuff Caius told her earlier, particularly the slave market.  
“These Telvanni sound like a bunch of jerks to me.”

Tay offers her a faint smile.  
“Well, they are certainly different from Hlaalu. They value individuality, power and self-glorification over anything else. Any society tied to them are often drawn into this mix.”

“Not a fan of them either, I guess?”

“Not much, no. However, if you need my help in some way that I can give it, I would be willing to consider lending a hand. Before I commit myself, though, I would still need to know that you don’t intend to do anything bad. Well, not anything that somehow hurts my employers.”

Jollain displays a small smirk for her.  
“Tsk, c’mon, you really think I’d do that to you?  
Don’t worry, I promise that Camonna will in no way be impacted by what we have to do. I wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble, I swear.”  
If Tay knew what they were actually doing, she might still be alarmed, but for other reasons. Unfortunately, Jollain has no ability nor intention of relaying such truths. It’s best that Tay believes it has to do with the Thieves Guild instead.  
“All we have to do is find someone, a colleague, who has gone quiet. She’s important to the Guild, but I think it’s best that I don’t tell you any more than that, so you're not too involved.”

Perhaps this wasn’t quite what Tay had expected or wanted, because she seems somewhat skeptical.  
“Hmm, well, I suppose you’re right. But if this is some secret thing, perhaps it’s best if I don’t get involved at all? If someone sees me going all the way out there, they might start asking questions and I wouldn’t want to answer them.”

Sounds like they’re losing her, which isn’t entirely unjustified, but Jollain isn’t about to give in. Time to turn up the charm.  
While offering Tay as sweet of a smile as Jollain is capable of, she leans over the table, placing one of her hands on the dunmer’s.  
“Listen, I realize this is not a great situation and I think it’s reasonable that you’re suspicious, but we need you, Tay. There’s no one else I’d trust here. I know very few dunmer, and I find none of them as enjoyable to be around as you. Please?”

Whatever doubt she had about this operation previously, now quickly washes away. Jollain can’t ignore that she has noticed how bashful Tay can get in these situations, especially when offered affection or playful teasing by the bosmer. She may feel bad for pushing it, but Tay happens to seem quite glad to receive such praise, filling her with a bit of pride.  
“Oh, well uh, in that case, how can I refuse?”, she says with a shy smile.

Jollain’s own expression grows into even more brilliant proportions.  
“Really?”

“Yes, of course. I will join you.”

She squeezes Tay’s hand, letting the warrior know how excited she is.  
“Great! I knew we could trust you to help us out. You’re the best, Tay.”

The dunmer clears her throat awkwardly and looks down at the table.  
“I…don’t know about that, but if this is important to you, I can’t really refuse. Erm, just let me pack some things and make some slight preparations before we leave.”

“Of course! Don’t have to bring all too much, though, as we’re using the Mages Guild’s portal. Just meet us outside of this cornerclub when you’re ready.”

Tay nods curtly, drinks the last of her mazte and then leaves the area. As she departs, Maak watches her until she’s out of the door, before he turns back to Jollain with an amused look on his face.  
“I have to admit, your manipulation of that woman was impressive. She seems very attached to you.”

Jollain snorts and leans back in her chair, leaving her arms behind her head for support.  
“It’s not like I wanted to hurt her or anything. I just know where to poke to get the right reactions.”  
Without thinking about it, her lips starts to curl, and her eyes turn distant as she imagines that adorable look on Tay’s face whenever she gets too shy by Jollain’s prodding.  
“To be honest, I…I kinda like her too.”

Maak directs his attention towards the bosmer, wondering what’s running through her head. He has heard a few words spoken of Tay here and there, which he didn’t care much for earlier, but perhaps this has gone further than he might’ve realized?  
“I suppose that’s fine, but don’t get too attached. You never know how such connections might end when our duties get involved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There's obviously affection between the two of them, which Jollain realizes, but she has a hard time to accept such things. She needs more time to be sure before she makes a move...or allows Tayerise to do it._


	16. Voice of the tower

It’s in the early hours of the afternoon when Jollain, Maak-Veh and Tayerise step out of the local imperial fort, called Wolverine Hall, turn their gazes north, and lay their eyes upon the city of Sadrith Mora. Immediately, Jollain’s are widened in surprise at the sight of the large mushrooms all around the island, especially the gigantic one in the center, which stands way above any of the other ones, dwarfing the rest of the city. The length of this mushroom is filled with what she assumes to be windows, which unfortunately do not give much of a view to the interior from all the way down here.

This isn’t to say that the rest of the city isn’t just as astounding, as almost the entire isle appears like a field of mushrooms, although most are minuscule in comparison. In between are roads to different districts and larger buildings, such as the Telvanni Council hall in one corner, the port in another and the slave market in a third.  
This is the fourth style of dunmer settlements that Jollain has witnessed, and she will admit that it’s definitely dissimilar from the others. The humongous mushroom is not just large, magnificent and weird, but also somewhat disheartening. It may be a lot bigger than anything else, which makes the difference in power between the leader and the rest of the populace very clear, but it’s also placed in the very center of the city, imbuing it with the most perceived importance. All of it gives her a lot of flashbacks to the Imperial City, albeit with less stone.

“Wow, that mushroom is...insanely huge”, Jollain comments as they walk along the road to the north. “I assume that place can fit loads of people, but only houses a few.”

Maak snorts, although it’s unclear if he’s amused or annoyed.  
“Correct. That is Tel Naga, the house of Neloth, one of the Telvanni Councilors and the man in charge of this city.”

Jollain sighs and shakes her head disappointedly.  
“Why am I not surprised? I mean, I’d heard that this house puts a lot of important positions around their mages, but this is kinda ridiculous. I don’t think I could ever imagine living in a place like this.”

With the bosmer in the middle, she has Maak to her left and Tay to her right. It’s the dunmer who now turns to look at her, offering a faint smile.  
“I won’t disagree with you. I’ve always found this area quite strange too, but I guess I can’t complain. This is simply how the Telvanni choose to rule. The wizards have all the power and they control everyone below them. Everyone else pretty much has to endure their ‘hospitality’.”

“So, power, big homes, magic…I assume they’ve got lots of drakes too?”

“Of course. Wealth is one of the aspects that Telvanni prize highly. Not due to trade per se, but because gold offers new ways towards power.”

While it’s certainly very interesting, Jollain is somehow quite glad that none of the Blades chose to send her here instead of Balmora. Not that it would’ve been a tactically sound move anyhow, if Caius is right, but she also feels like she would’ve just generally hated this place.  
“Wonderful.”

The closer they get to towards the city, the more people they see in the distance walking around on the streets. Despite the size of the mushrooms, it’s not a particularly big place. It does not reach the amount of people in Balmora, and definitely not the crowds of Vivec. Still, it’s not exactly small either.  
Maak doesn’t look at the two, but he does address them.  
“Remember, stay vigilant while we’re in there. Sadrith Mora has a slave market and we do not want to get involved.”

Not exactly the kind of words Jollain likes to hear, even if Caius already told them once. That district of the city can be seen from afar, with many cages lined up and people announcing those on sale or what’s on offer. It makes Jollain shiver just to think about it.  
“I still can’t get over that”, Jollain whispers, as they are now approaching other people that walk along the same road. “The idea of people being sold like objects just…makes me sick.”

Tay briefly glances at her, before turning towards the same direction. Uncertainty washes over her soon after.  
“I…will agree that it makes me uncomfortable as well. It’s another element of Telvanni society that I’ve never agreed with. Some houses see it as a tradition, though. It’s part of what much of Morrowind used to do. In fact, I’ve heard it was the same in several lands of Tamriel in the past.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Seeing no need to comment any further, they stay quiet and choose to avoid that section of the city. Instead, they head towards one of the many areas filled with mushrooms, basically the living quarters of the citizens. The most difficult aspect of this assignment is to actually see the differences between the various ‘houses’. Just like in Ald’ruhn, Jollain has no idea where to go. There are no easily distinguishable roads or rows, only big clusters of buildings all placed together, most of them trying to face the roads. Thankfully, Maak seems to have some idea of where they’re going.  
  
During this little journey, they walk past a lot of the citizens that traverse the same paths, doing their best not to run into anyone or somehow gain attention. Jollain can see here that not all of them are dunmer in this city, as quite a few other races choose to stay. There’s a surprising amount of khajiit around, even if she wouldn’t call them numerous.  
At one point, Jollain spots one with dark grey fur and no mane in the distance, by another nearby road, which seems familiar at first. She quickly shakes her head, figuring that she’s getting paranoid and when she goes for a double take, this individual is no longer visible.  
  
When they eventually arrive at the correct house, in the northern section of town, they are surprised to see that it’s somewhat occupied from the outside. Two guards in the typical yellow bonemold armor of the Great House variety, albeit with different symbols and helmets that look more like some kind of weird sea creature, are waiting outside, seemingly guarding it. Seeing how it’s a very simple home of a commoner, this is a highly unusual sight.

The trio have chosen to stop behind one of the other structures nearby, spying towards their chosen destination from afar. Maak has his hand on the nearby building, tilting his head out and furrows his brow.  
“Telvanni Guards”, he comments.

Jollain took a quick peek too, before she went in to hide behind the house, her eyes turned towards Maak.  
“What in Oblivion are they doing here?”, she asks quietly.

“No idea.”

Tay has positioned herself somewhat away from the house, in between the two and the road, so that she blocks the view a little bit, just in case someone gets suspicious.  
“The guards of the Great Houses would never be stationed at a commoner’s home without good reasons”, she comments.

Maak frowns and nods.  
“Yeah, that’s what worries me. Either something happened to the house…or the denizens.”

“Might be seized by the Wizard-Lord in charge.”

“True, but what for reason? And why would they continue to guard the house and not just lock it up?”

Tay opens her mouth, but as she has no proper answer, she merely sighs and shrugs.  
“Your guess is as good as mine.”

After a few more moments of scouting, he nods and turns to look at the dunmer.  
“We should take a closer look. You can go ahead of us, sera Tayerise, since outlanders are not welcome here.”

Even though that should be an obvious conclusion, she falters.  
“Uh, sure, but I’m not very good with…talking.”

Jollain starts to smile, seeming pretty amused by the awkward way she says it. She’s not wrong, of course.  
“Don’t worry, Tay, we’ll deal with it, if necessary. You just need to walk ahead of us, so it seems like we’re with you.”

This apparently satisfies her, and she does as they ask her, walking ahead of the other two, until they encounter the guards. The Telvanni soldiers immediately turn to look at the dunmer when she approaches, but does not say anything until the whole group is pretty much right in front of them.  
“Good afternoon, sera”, says the one on the left, mostly to Tay. “This is a restricted area. You are not allowed inside.”

She clears her throat and tries to maintain a level of confidence.  
“Right, but uh, what’s going on in there? Did something happen in this house?”

The one on the right briefly shakes his head.  
“We cannot offer you any details, since such information is restricted, by the orders of Master Neloth.”

“Well, we’re not interested in details, really”, Jollain points out. “The woman who lives here, is she around?”

The guards briefly share a gaze, shortly before addressing them once more.  
“Devrama? No, she is not.”

“Can you tell us where she is?”

“We cannot.”

The two women hesitate and consider if there’s any way to convince the guards of revealing even a little bit of intel, but Maak realizes that it’s futile.  
“Alright, thanks for the info.”  
He nudges his hand towards Jollain’s arm.  
“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

They seem disappointed that they know almost nothing more than when they arrived, and even more questions have opened up, but none of them actually manage to get very far until one of the guards call after them.  
“Hey, hold on! Do you know Devrama?”

The entire trio start to look between themselves, which is not a great way to avoid seeming suspicious, but perhaps it’s at least reasonable to give these guards something, if they can get a small piece of the truth in return.  
“Uh, yeah, a bit”, Jollain admits. “She is…an acquaintance of ours.”

The guard on the left takes a deep breath, and speaks with a somewhat sad tone once he exhales.  
“Alright, in that case, you won’t be very happy to hear that Devrama has been murdered.”

Well, seems this mission suddenly took a sharp turn for the worse. All three looks genuinely shocked, which does alleviate some of the inherent suspicious that would appear.  
“M-Murdered? What? When? By who?”

The soldier on the right side sighs and looks at his comrade.  
“Did you really have to be so blunt about it?”

The other one shrugs.  
“Sorry, I just…”

The second guard folds his arms and faces the group.  
“Yes, it’s true – sera Devrama is dead. However, we can’t tell you anything else, other than that the case is still being investigated.  
If it’s true that you do know her, though, I believe it’s best you come with us.”

Jollain raises her hands defensively.  
“Whoa, what? Why?”

“We believe that the person in charge of the investigation would like to have a word with you, just in case.”

Of course they do. Just Jollain's luck to enter the town and almost immediately being asked to speak with the guards. Hopefully, they won’t have to spend the night in prison at least. She doesn’t look forward to what that might be like in Telvanni territory.

* * *

  
To Jollain’s slight surprise, the entire trio are not escorted to a cell nor any specific guard house, but straight into the massive tower in the center - Tel Naga. The guard who took them here, informed them that they will not be able to ascend to any of the upper levels, since those can only be reached through levitation spells, so they will have to wait down on the lower sections. A very important representative will want to speak with them.

When they are placed inside a room with some tables, chairs, and candles, the guard leaves them, although closes the door behind him. There is no window into this part of the mushroom, which means that the lit candles are their only light sources. Jollain also gets a good view of the interior at this point and notes how organic everything appears. It really does look like someone simply took a mushroom, made it a hundred times larger and then somehow hollowed it out, in order to place people inside. She’s not sure whether to be impressed or unnerved.

A few minutes later, the round door slides open once more, and another person steps inside. They are faced with a rather serious-looking dunmer in expensive dark green robes, with golden linings and decorative patterns. She wears a belt with a jeweled center, golden earrings and a headband over her brown hair. Certainly not a commoner with that outfit, and by the look of the documents in her hand, it’s likely that she is some kind of official. The trio can see that she has some guards with her, but when she closes the door, they wait outside.

She does not say anything until she has stopped in front of the table, on the opposite end of the trio, and put down the scrolls on the surface.  
“Greetings”, she says in a serene and solemn voice. “My name is Arara Uvulas, Mouth of Master Neloth.”

While Tay suddenly looks much less confident and Maak clenches his hand under the table, Jollain mostly appears confused.  
“Erm…okay. Mouth? What does that mean?”

Arara looks at the bosmer, the shortest of the three, and arches her brow.  
“You do not know of Telvanni ranks? I was told that you knew the victim of the incident that brought me here.”

Jollain clears her throat, practically feeling the stare she’s receiving from Maak as well.  
“Well, uh, yeah sure, I do, but I haven’t actually been on Vvardenfell for very long, especially not Sadrith Mora. I spend most of my time in Balmora and I’ve only spoken with Devrama about this place.”

Arara stares at her, giving her quite an ambiguous look, before she eventually nods in recognition. Let’s hope she bought it.  
“Very well, I understand. Not all outlanders who come here can afford to see everything.  
A Mouth is a representative for one of the great Wizard-Lords in the Telvanni Council. We deal with the public business around their cities or towns, and other mundane affairs. I speak for Master Neloth, Lord of Sadrith Mora.”

Mundane affairs? Is that what they call a murder? This Neloth is either very absent or a stuck-up bastard if he thinks he can rule everything and yet disregard it. Then again, Telvanni overall seem quite strange to Jollain, so it’s probably best to not comment on it. She does not want to offend a mage.  
“Oh, okay. Makes sense, I guess.”

“Indeed. At any rate, I am currently overseeing the investigation for the murdered citizen of Sadrith Mora, Devrama. I tend to leave most deaths for the guards to inspect, but this one was of particular interest to me.”  
She takes and lifts one of the scrolls, rolling it around in her hand for a moment, as her eyes sweep across the trio.  
“But before I proceed, I will need to hear your names.”

“Our names? Why?”, Jollain asks.

“For future reference and official documentation, of course”, Arara tells her. “Did I not say this was an investigation? You are being interviewed and I need to know who I’m speaking to.”

All three hesitate, especially Maak and Jollain, who don’t really want anyone to know they were here. Now it might be too late, unless they give fake names. But this one is probably a mage, and don’t they have spells that can find out the truth anyway? Perhaps it’s best not to gamble.  
Luckily, the argonian chooses to break the silence.  
“My name is Maak-Veh. These two are Jollain and Tayerise. We all live in or around Balmora.”

Arara unfurls the scroll and then lifts one hand, makes a few quick moves with her fingers and magically summons a pen. She uses it to scribble something on the parchment.  
“Are you employed by House Hlaalu?”

“Not me. I am a self-employed hunter. Jollain works in a bookstore.”

Not true, of course, but she can probably get a particular altmer to tell people that.  
When Arara looks at Tay, the warrior hesitates and clears her throat.  
“Well, I…I am employed by associates of House Hlaalu, yes.”

Others might have asked something further, but there’s a glint of understanding in Arara’s eyes. She has probably heard of Camonna as well.  
“I see. Balmora is quite far away from Sadrith Mora, though, for those who do not have any business here. What brought you all the way across Vvardenfell to see one person?”

Seeing as how Jollain is somehow the most charismatic out of the three, they leave the explanation to her. Or perhaps she’s just best at lying.  
“Well, we’re acquaintances of Devrama, but not like, friends or anything. We mostly discuss information and occasionally trade. She likes to know about the situation around the West Gash. Or at least she used to.  
A few weeks ago, she just sort of stopped coming, and we were getting worried. We wondered what in Oblivion was going on, so we decided it was worth it to go see her directly. Hadn’t expected to step right into a murder case, though…”

All of this gets written down by Arara, who sits silently on the chair at her end. When Jollain is done speaking, she takes over.  
“Well, in a way, it was a fortunate choice, despite the circumstances. At least you know the truth now, even if it is too late.”

Quite a callous view of things, but Jollain feels no need to mention it.  
“Yeah…I guess. Since you’re leading the investigation, though, do you have any information about the death itself?”

“Other than that it was a murder, you mean?”

“…yeah.”

Arara turns her gaze up from the parchment, eyes shifting between the people in front of her once more, but she mostly stays on the two non-dunmer.  
“I do, and I even have a few suspects. Well, not individuals, but a potential origin.”  
She puts her hand into a pocket and fishes something out from it, placing the item on the table. It is a simple coin, a Septim.  
“This was found on the chest of the victim’s body. It was what attracted by attention, as well.”  
She examines their expressions once more, trying to read their emotions.  
“I can see that sera Jollain and Tayerise are rather confused by this revelation. I understand that you don’t know what this means.”

Jollain clears her throat and scratches her cheek.  
“Well, I mean, it’s a piece of gold…”

“No, it’s more than that”, she says, swirling her eyes into Maak’s direction, “and you don’t seem as surprised by it. You know what this means, don’t you, argonian?”

Maak has been eyeing the coin as well, but now looks up from the table to frown at Arara. He obviously does not appreciate being addressed like this when she knows his name, but realizes that fighting about it won’t do much for him.  
“I do”, he says while sighing. “Or at least I’ve heard rumors. I believe this is something done by a group known as the ‘Talos Cult’.”

Either Jollain and Tayerise are totally out of the loop, or they simply have no idea what’s going on.  
“…never heard of ‘em”, Jollain admits.

Arara rises from her seat and starts to slowly walk back and forth on her side of the table.  
“The Talos Cult is a specific sect within the church of the Nine Divines, or the Imperial Cult as it is often known here in Morrowind. There may be nine gods in your realms, outlanders, but these people worship one above all else – Talos.”

Jollain actually does pretty well when she hides her emotions right now, or at least she thinks so. A cult to Talos that murders Blades? This sounds way too suspicious.  
“Huh, okay. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of them before. What do they do? And why would a cult in Talos’ name try to kill a random dark elf?”

Unfortunately, Arara merely shrugs.  
“I don’t know and that is something I have been asking as well. The Talos Cult is not an officially sanctioned subsection of the Nine Divines church and knowledge of it has only appeared in certain circles and rumors. I had to go through quite a few contacts to find out about them myself. I believe they are somehow associated with the Imperial Legion, though, but whether they were started in the Legion or merely infiltrated it, I cannot say. Either way, rumor has it that they have been creating disturbances in certain Vvardenfell districts, and the knowledge of this type of murder, by putting the coin on their victims, is something that has occurred a few times during the last several years.”

“How few are we talking?”

“Quite few, no more than a handful or two. It is not a lot if you count the general way of politics here in Vvardenfell.”  
That phrase either says a lot about Vvardenfell, Telvanni or Arara herself. Perhaps all three.  
“I still cannot say exactly why the Cult would target Devrama, however. Whether she was an enemy of the Empire, the Emperor, the Legion, the Divines, or somehow associated with them, I can’t tell. Perhaps she was even an agent of the Empire who somehow tried to stop them and got on the wrong side.”

Jollain and Maak both do their best not to reveal anything on their expressions at this point, but they feel themselves getting rather tense. They don’t wish to be found out, but this woman seems to have been snooping around a bit too much.  
“Imperial agent? What would one like that be doing in Sadrith Mora?”, Jollain asks.

Arara shrugs.  
“I do not know, and I will confess that this is mere guesswork.”  
She stops and turns to watch the group once more.  
“Regardless, your arrival was quite timely and somewhat suspicious. This makes me wish to ask you more questions of how you knew her and why…but I would also be willing to disregard all of it, if you are instead ready to assist me.”

Her sudden shift surprises the group, as they had wondered how long they would be seated here, or if they might end up in jail after all. Now she wants them to help?  
“Assist you? How?”

The Mouth sighs heavily and puts her arms behind her back.  
“This is a rather sordid affair and it makes me uncomfortable that the Talos Cult is causing trouble in our realm. If this were to spread, especially in Sadrith Mora, the Imperial Legion might try to get involved or attempt to interfere with Telvanni operations. Master Neloth would be most displeased and I have no interest in gaining his wrath.  
Of course, it’s absolutely absurd that we would ever house the Cult willingly, as I care neither for the Empire nor the Divines, but I will not have the Legion try to increase their authority.”

Jollain is starting to understand where this is leading. She crosses her arms and nods in thought.  
“I see. So, basically, you need someone to try to find these bastards.”

“Indeed. The members of the Cult, whomever they are, would never trust us and if they’re associated with the Legion, I cannot have our guards go and ask them. Therefore, I need outlanders like yourselves to somehow deal with it.  
If they are still hiding in this city, I want you to find them and lure them out, potentially killing them, if necessary. I will provide the appropriate documents if that were to happen, to show that you had authority and reason. In turn, I will also not aim any suspicion towards you.  
Do we have a deal?”

Arara is telling them a whole lot of the situation here, but perhaps they’re somehow in a similar boat. She also has all the power right now and could easily jail them if they refuse or try to go about this in another way. And, at the same time, creating an enemy high up among House Telvanni is a very bad choice. Better to cooperate and potentially gain a favor in return.  
Besides, as members of the Blades, Maak and Jollain want to find the truth as well, to see how much these people know.

“Yeah, it’s a deal”, Jollain tells her reluctantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _While I know how it looks in-game, my inspiration for this version of Sadrith Mora was[this piece of artwork](https://alexeyrudikov.deviantart.com/art/Telvanni-tower-297403383) from several years back. Makes it look more like a city._
> 
> _And yeah, I know this isn't quite how the Talos Cult appear in Morrowind, but I wanted to do something fun with them. I also have an idea for doing something with them in an Oblivion fic at some point._


	17. Misinterpretation

On paper, Sadrith Mora did not look like a particularly big city, not if it was compared to some of the other places that Jollain has been to, even here on Vvardenfell. To wander its streets and investigate the location of Devrama's disappearance seemed like a reasonably easy thing to do, at least as far as finding her house goes.  
When they were instead directed to locate some kind of hidden cultists somewhere in the shadows of the city, suddenly it didn’t look so small. How in all of Oblivion are they going to find murderers in here? It’s not exactly a gigantic city, but Jollain is pretty sure it manages to hold a few thousand, and she has never been an investigator. Even worse, if the perpetrators are imperial soldiers, they’d have to confront the Legion, and that prospect is fairly frightening.

For a few hours, as they made inquiries and discussed plans, both Maak-Veh and Jollain were somewhat doubtful of how to solve this mystery and what angle to approach it with. They may both be spies, but neither of them have previously been forced to investigate a murder, nor have they actually gone on a hunt for criminals. In fact, Jollain usually is one of those criminals, at least as far as burglary or pickpocketing goes, and while she’d never defend those who kill in such gruesome ways, she wouldn’t have considered this to be something she can do.  
Perhaps she should utilize one of the favors that Legate Svalen owes her, seeing as how she has delivered a bunch of messages for the Moonmoth commander in the past. Not exactly the way that Asta would want to repay her, but what other choice do they have?

Thankfully, neither of them need to consider this notion at all. Only a few hours after the hunt begins and they find themselves in the market district, they are approached by a man. Just as they walk past some kind of stall, another bosmer bumps into Jollain, but grabs her arm before she can step away. He doesn’t look at her as he whispers.  
“Were you one of those who approached Devrama’s house?”

Jollain hesitates at first, not sure what’s going on.  
“…w-what? What are you talking about? Who’re you?”

The man sighs as he glances around, hoping that they’re not making a scene, and he keeps his voice down.  
“Devrama, the victim. Did you visit her house?”

By now, not only Maak, but Tayerise has noticed what’s going on as well. The argonian furrows his brow and clenches his hand, but gestures for Tay to stay away. They won’t move until Jollain gives some kind of signal.  
She clears her throat and tries to stay calm, hoping that this is a good sign.  
“Yeah, what about it?”, she asks, in a slightly quieter tone.

“Dunno what you got yourself into, friend, but there are two imperial…gentlemen who want to speak with you and your friends. They’re at the Gateway Inn, sitting somewhere in the back, along the southeastern corner.”

That was certainly a lot quicker than they had anticipated. She doesn’t move much, but she lets her thoughts wander. Are those the cultists? Have they been watching the house during all this time?  
Jollain frowns and gets even closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to act as if she may be with him, but only so that she can whisper into his ear.  
“How do you know those guys?”

He merely shrugs.  
“I don’t. Was just looking to earn some drakes and they wanted me to deliver a message.”

“You’re not with them?”

He snorts in mild amusement.  
“Do I look like a Legion soldier to you, woman?”

She doesn’t really like his dismissive tone, but she sighs, raises her hands and takes a step back.  
“Alright, fella, if you don’t like my offer, I’m leaving. Have a nice day”, she says, pretending like they were talking about something else, before she moves back and joins her friends again. The other bosmer merely nods briefly and departs through the opposite route.  
“Two imperials at the Gateway Inn, that’s what he told me”, Jollain says quietly to Maak when they’re wandering together again.

“Nothing else?”, the argonian asks. “Was he with them?”

“Didn’t look like it to me, nor did he sound very interested in them. Just a paid messenger, as far as I know.”

“Did he describe them in any way?”

Jollain shakes her head.  
“Sadly, no. He did mention that they’re sitting in the southeastern corner, though, somewhere in the back. Guess we just have to look for some potential Legion troopers in that direction.”

Maak nods slowly, but seems no less troubled.  
“I…suppose we will have to confront them, then, see what they know. If it truly was those two, we’ll have to deal with them somehow.”

This is something that Jollain already expected, but she isn’t looking forward to it. The Gateway Inn is not exactly by the garrison, but a lot of Legionnaires go there to relax. How are they supposed to fight soldiers inside a place like that? Jollain kinda wishes that they could’ve had some Telvanni guards with them as backup by now.  
The third person in this equation still looks rather skeptical.  
“Not that I want to question either of you”, Tay says, “but this is starting to sound very strange. I assume that these two have been watching us in some way since we got to that house, but what could Talos Cultists want with the Thieves Guild?”

Jollain opens her mouth, but hesitates, not sure what or how she can explain this. Perhaps dragging Tay into this mess wasn’t such a good idea after all, but what choice did they have? This probably would’ve gone even worse without her, and at least they have some muscle as backup.  
“Look, Tay, this is…a difficult situation. Maybe it’s best if you stay out of it for now, let us deal with it. You might get into trouble.”

Unfortunately, the dunmer is not pleased with this response and frowns.  
“Stay out of it? Jollain, there are cultists killing members of your Guild for no reason. I can’t just ignore this.  
Do you even know what’s going on here, what kind of trouble we’re all in?”

“Well…in a way, I both do, and I don’t. I could explain it, but this is something very strictly for the Guild. If you get into this, you may become too involved, like the way you didn’t want to be, remember?  
These two, whomever they are, have likely created a mess for us, and we need to solve it.”

Tay stares at Jollain as they walk, probably hoping that the stern gaze somehow will convince the bosmer to say more, but she doesn’t. Eventually, Tay folds her arms.  
“Does your Guild…have ties to the Emperor?”

Jollain shrugs.  
“Not that I know of, but it’s pretty big organization, you know? We can’t keep track of all our members, especially not across several different sections of this island.”

“Why did they send you two then, and not someone else? Someone with more authority.”

“Probably because no one realized what had actually happened. We just heard news about some kind of trouble and then when we got here…well, this wasn’t quite the surprise were expecting.”

Gradually, Tay’s expression starts to soften, and she probably tries to come to terms with what is required of them here, perhaps hoping to find some angles that she might help them with.  
“What about the rest of the Guild in Sadrith Mora? Can’t you contact them?”

“We uh, we did earlier, but they said they don’t actually know what’s going on. Devrama was always a bit…on her own.”

Doesn’t sound entirely convincing, but it is technically the truth. She was certainly alone out here, in terms of comrades.  
The dunmer sighs.  
“Alright, I don’t like this, but I get the sense we’re walking into a fight. I don’t want either of you two to go in there alone. Let me at least back you up somehow.”

Jollain offers her a gentle smile.  
“Thanks, Tay, I appreciate that. Perhaps you could stay a bit in the background? Let the two of us walk in first and then follow about half a minute later. You can get into a good position to observe the situation, but you don’t have to overhear any Guild crap.”

“Agreed. Also…don’t do anything foolish, okay? I don’t want you to take unnecessary risks.”

The bosmer arches her brow amusedly, before she runs a hand over Tay’s arm in a somewhat affectionate manner.  
“You’re sweet, you know that, right?”

The group decides to walk towards the western side of the isle, where the Gateway Inn is supposed to be. It’s located in the outskirts of the small port, where several ships are stationed. Some of these take regular trips to other nearby isles and also the nearest towns on the coast.  
Before they actually reach the building, Jollain decides to stay close to Maak, so that they can discuss the situation a bit first.

“So, have you fought this Cult before?”, she asks quietly.

He shakes his head very briefly.  
“Not at all. I have heard and done some minor investigations on them, though, as have other members of the Order, especially outside of Morrowind.”

“Anything I oughta know?”

Maak contemplates the question for a moment, before he shrugs.  
“They’re not a very large group, or shouldn’t be, as far as our intel says. They apparently have a few very loyal members on Vvardenfell, and their main goal seems to be to ‘put a strong man back on the imperial throne’. Obviously in Talos’ name.”

Jollain blinks, seeming quite confused.  
“Wait, what? They want to…replace the Emperor?”

“Not only that. According to a report from Hammerfell a few years back, they seek to assassinate him, saying he is not enough for the Empire, not enough to live up to the name of Tiber Septim.”

“That’s…crazy.”

Maak nods slowly, sliding past a few of the nearby citizens as they continue wandering casually, hoping not to draw attention. That’s also why they keep their voices very low.  
“You will get no arguments from me. Caius told me that they likely have members among the nobility back in Cyrodiil, but that should not have anything to do with the events here on Vvardenfell.  
As this island is so far removed from the rest of the Empire, and so new to the Emperor’s jurisdiction, I would never have believed that it would take the Cult in this direction. It seems we were all mistaken.”

Jollain doesn’t say it outright, but it only becomes even more suspicious then why they’d come here. It seems very unlikely that the Emperor would visit Vvardenfell either, unless something important comes up.  
“So, you’ve never encountered them? No advice for how to act here?”

“Nothing immediate, but I have heard that they can be very zealous. If they at some point believe that we are agents too, they may attack. Best to remain careful, and not imply anything.”

“Right, so…maybe you should handle the talking?”

“That might be wise, but feel free to comment if you judge my efforts to go poorly. You are more…charismatic.”

Jollain still manages to display a small smirk, but she doesn’t actually say anything about it. She’s too focused on the task at hand. Eventually, the duo arrives at the inn, with Tay still waiting on the outside for now, following the plan they decided upon.  
The establishment is quite a pleasant one, and due to the location of the city being both isolated and sort of hostile against outlanders, it is not particularly crowded. That’s not to say it’s empty either, though. As expected, most customers are non-dunmer and quite a few are imperial soldiers, still wearing armor. This place isn’t just an inn, of course, but a tavern as well, which is why it attracts people at all, and why a lot of Legionnaires come here.  
The only thing that Jollain would say is strange about it, is the design. Because she has actually been in a few Telvanni buildings now, she isn’t shocked by the mushroom layout, but since this is technically an ‘outlander building’, she had somehow expected an imperial facility, but that’s not what they have.

The two agents are entirely uninterested in the rest of the tavern and instead turn their attentions to the southeastern corner, and just as they may have expected, the two sitting over there are also soldiers. They’re dressed in the typically rather ornate armors of the Legion, with their helmets currently resting on the table, having taken one side each of it. There’s two large mugs in front of them, both of them probably having some kind of imperial ale.  
These two are both rather light-skinned, with one having short blonde hair and the other quite black. Jollain can’t say that she recognizes either of them, but they are certainly imperials. Could be Bretons, of course, but they are usually somewhat shorter.

Maak and Jollain walk up together, side by side and stop only a few meters away. Jollain leans against a wall, while Maak folds his arms, making sure that no other customers are nearby and that they have gained no unwanted attention before he speaks. The imperials are already watching them by now, most likely knowing who they are.  
“Good evening, gentlemen. We…received your message.”

The blonde one sits closest to the wall, holding onto his mug and remains quiet. The black-haired one takes a large swig of his own cup, before he eyes the new arrivals. Jollain notes how both seem somewhat unsteady, potentially lightly drunk already.  
“I’m Arius”, he says, and then gestures at his blonde friend. “This is Oritius.”

Oritius seems very skeptical, but he nods. Maak clears his throat before he responds.  
“Maak-Veh. This is Jollain”, he says and nudges his head in her direction.

“Pleasure to meet ya, gentlemen”, she says rather hushed.

If they feel the same thing, their expressions certainly don’t show it.  
Arius looks down at the table.  
“We’ve heard that you two have been snooping around the city, asking questions. You approached the house of Devrama, didn’t you?”

His tone sounds more accusatory than questioning, which isn’t a good start. Maak nods curtly.  
“We did, yes.”

“Why?”

“She was an associate of ours. An acquaintance.”

Arius furrows his brow and quickly turns his eyes back at the argonian.  
“An ‘acquaintance’, huh?”

Maak mirrors the expression and doesn’t let himself be intimidated.  
“That’s right. What of it? I hardly think that is Legion business.”

“Our…business?”  
Arius clenches his hand.  
“We are members of the Imperial Legion, argonian! We have every right to act with imperial authority!”

A few heads shift in their direction as he raises his voice, but Maak remains calm. Oritius leans closer and tries to speak cautiously.  
“Arius, calm down. Others will hear.”

As Maak has no response, Jollain takes the opportunity.  
“Imperial authority, huh? Not saying you can’t act, but last I checked, you’re not exactly noblemen who’re allowed to take whatever the fuck you want.”

His gaze had been on Maak, but Arius swiftly turns it to her instead.  
“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Or have your ears clogged up with crap?”

“Hope you’re not getting hostile with me, girl. I don’t appreciate that kind of tone.”

Maak raises his hands, hoping to get their attention.  
“Please, let us stay calm, shall we? You two sent a message to us, and you wanted to talk, correct? Or are you already accusing us of something?”

With how slurred Arius voice is and how agitated he’s getting, Jollain somehow suspects that he might’ve had more to drink than the other guy. That’s not to say that Oritius looks calm or friendly, though.  
“Do you two think we’re stupid? Huh? Do you think we don’t know what you’re doing here?”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“Are we supposed to believe that you two came out of nowhere, just to go meet with an ‘acquaintance’, not long after she was killed? Seems _very_ convenient, don’t you think?”

Jollain scoffs.  
“You know what seems even more convenient? After we’ve only visited that house once, you guys already send a message to us, to meet in a dark corner.”

“Now who’s throwing accusations?!”

Oritius puts a hand down on Arius shoulder, trying to silence him again, and for once, it seems to work. The other denizens haven’t approached them, but there are certainly a few eyes watching at this point.  
“You probably realize already”, Oritius says, “but we feel the same about you. There’s only one type of people outside of Sadrith Mora, who would know that Devrama was killed.”

“Eh, or you’re making rather sweeping conclusions”, Jollain counters. “Devrama was a member of another type of Guild, one that you guys probably know about as well. We come from the same organization, and we were here to see what in Oblivion happened to her.”

While Oritius intends to respond, Arius starts to laugh, rather loudly too, but he doesn’t sound amused as much as mocking.  
“You think that bullshit lie is going to impress us? You’re saying we’re meant to believe she was a mere thief?! You don’t think we would’ve noticed at some point?!”

“Arius, please, shut your mouth”, Oritius tells him, but Arius is not done.

The black-haired imperial stands up and points at them.  
“Are you the same, huh? Are you also agents of the false Emperor? Are you his pawns, out to kill us?!”

Maak tilts his head curiously. Jollain has to admit, he can be very good at hiding his emotions, as even she looks somewhat nervous by now.  
“False Emperor? What makes you believe Devrama was associated with the Emperor in any way?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, agent! We know he has eyes and ears everywhere! We know he’s watching us and he thinks we don’t know! But we know you people don’t belong!”

Oritius sighs, but he has stopped trying now, instead keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. Jollain frowns, realizing that something is about to happen. Could they really not have done this smoother? Arius must have been tired of hiding or something.  
“Sorry, pal”, she says, “but you’ve probably had too much to drink.”

“Uriel has weakened the Empire! He has become attached to the voices constantly whispering from all around him. But we see the truth, and we know what the Empire needs. It’s time that Talos got a real proper successor!”

Jollain shakes her head.  
“Guys, please, calm down! We don’t even know what you’re talking about, but what you’re saying sounds kinda insane. I mean, it’s interesting in a way. I wonder what would happen if someone higher up in the Legion found out about these…opinions of yours.”

Suddenly, Arius anger turns from this bursting mode into something much sharper and direct. Whatever intoxication he was displaying previously is now replaced with a very clear sign of a killing intent.  
He draws his blade and launches himself at the bosmer, but Jollain leaps away, being able to thank her reflexes for avoiding the sword that slashes the mushroom wall instead of her. She may not be a great fighter yet, but she certainly knows how to dodge.

Maak reacts shortly after, grabs Arius’ arm and uses it to push him into the opposite wall. He tries to move to disarm the imperial, but Arius grits his teeth and elbows the argonian in the abdomen, before he gets into another fighting stance.  
Many other denizens in the bar stand up, especially the Legionnaires, even if they hesitate with how to react. This bar fight is very strange and they’re not quite sure in which direction they should move. It’s very clear that Maak didn’t start the brawl, nor did Jollain.

While this chaos erupts, Oritius does not linger. Instead, he slips past them and tries to run away. Jollain widen her eyes.  
“Hey, you! Come back here, you little bastard!”  
Due to their doubts, the other Legionnaires do not stop him when he runs past their tables, but they do try to prevent Jollain from pursuing him. Once more, she can thank her dexterity, as she easily ducks under their arms and leaps over their legs. She spots her comrade on the opposite side as well.  
“Tay! Help!”

The dunmer nods and while she doesn’t actually go after Oritius, as he’s way too quick, she moves towards the door and prevents any Legion soldiers from going after Jollain.  
“Stop right there! She’s innocent, you saw her!”

“Get out of our way, elf!”, they yell at her, but she opposes them anyway. Jollain hopes that this won’t lead into trouble for her friend, but she can’t focus on that now.

Oritius runs out into the relative darkness of Sadrith Mora, where the sun is almost completely gone, and shadows linger in many places. He clearly wants to find a way to be rid of his pursuer, but it’s not as easy as simply hiding behind the closest building. It’s not dark enough for him to be concealed and with the armor he’s wearing, he’s not exactly silent.  
At the same time, Jollain is not really built for long sprinting sessions like this. She prefers a short quick run, where she can disappear, rather than dashing through an entire city. She’s also definitely not used to being on the chasing side.

The areas they reach are quite far away from the main roads and there’s not a lot of actual living quarters nearby. He’s clearly drawing her towards the coastline, with less people. Is he trying to find some kind of place to kill her? That would be pretty bad.  
When they round another building, though, Oritius almost runs right into another person, being able to make a turn in the last second and keeps sprinting. Jollain follows him, but when she passes by the rather casually clad citizen, she somehow recognizes the dark grey fur, the lack of a mane, and the scarred right ear. She can’t forget that face.

“…Vaziri?”, she asks, and while she gives this woman a lengthy gaze, she doesn’t stop. Was she not imagining things earlier, after all?  
The khajiit watches her curiously as well, but she looks so…unusual in this current setup. She seems like a normal commoner, not some assassin hiding in the shadows. She’s even holding a basket with some groceries, as she’s assumingly on her way home. Is she also on a mission of some kind, hiding among the citizens, or is this another side of her?

Not like Jollain really has time to ask such questions, as she continues, hurrying after her target. She has forgotten all about the khajiit when she and Oritius run down a slope, putting them almost fully out of view from the rest of the city, and that is when he finally slows down.  
Both of them are breathing heavily at this point, being exhausted, and for the imperial, that’s probably quite reasonable after he ran with such heavy gear.

“Seems this is the end of the line…”, he says, before he swirls around and draws his sword, intent clear in his eyes. “…for you.”

She widens her eyes and takes a quick step back, lifting her arms up.  
“Whoa, uh…let’s calm down here, shall we? I just wanna talk.”

“Talk? I don’t think so. You know who I am, and I know who you are. There will be no more words between us.”

Jollain hesitates and continues to walk backwards, but doesn’t turn around. She only has a dagger on her right now, not having expected that she’d have to fight. It seemed pretty unwise to come heavily armed to a city that dislikes outlanders, but now she kinda regrets listening to those instincts.  
Thankfully, before Oritius can even reach her, he has to stop when a flash of lightning flies past him, hitting the earth very close to his location and leaves a small hole in the ground. Both Oritius and Jollain widen their eyes as they turn towards the source of it.

“Now, now, it is not very nice to attack an unarmed lady, is it? Not what I would say to be a gentleman’s behavior”, Vaziri says from her position a few meters up the slope. She simply stands there in her sky blue and black clothes, basket in one hand, the other aimed at her enemy.

Oritius frowns and aims the blade at her instead, but the khajiit is several meters away.  
“Stay out of this, cat! This is not your fight!”

Vaziri tilts her head back and laughs shortly.  
“Oh, I do so love it when they insult me. It makes them so much easier to kill. Removes all the empathy, you know?”

He grits his teeth and doesn’t waver, as he tries to launch himself straight towards her. This is a very poor tactic, as Vaziri is not the kind of opponent one attacks from a distance. She raises her free hand, casts a quick spell with another light appearing in it, before she sends out a telekinetic shockwave towards him, which sends him flying backwards.  
Oritius lands with a hard thud on the ground, rolls around in the darkened soil, but manages to get back up on his knees shortly after. He puts his hand on his belt, takes up a throwing knife and tosses it at Vaziri. She easily dodges the attack, as it’s thrown rather sloppily, before she prepares an even more devastating spell.

Oritius hopes to get an opportunity during the casting time to close in on her, but she doesn’t linger for that long. A large cloud of fire appears above her hand, and she easily flings it towards him, but not directly at his body. Instead, she hits the ground just beneath his feet and upon the impact, it explodes, not just hitting him, but knocking him back once more, rolling towards the waters. Vaziri decides to finish the fight by also throwing a bolt of lightning at his body, which pushes him the last bit out into the sea.

Once she’s done with him, he isn’t moving anymore and even his body simply floats around. Jollain quickly hurries up to his location, trying to tilt her head to see how he’s doing, but she can only assume he did not survive that onslaught.  
She turns around, looks at the rather amused khajiit and isn’t sure what to say.  
“Vaziri, I…what are you doing here?”

“Hah, I could ask you the very same. I can certainly say I had not expected to be killing anyone so soon. It seems Azurah has blessed us both, with how we meet at such fortunate times, little outlander.”

“Not sure I’d call it blessed…but thanks for the help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, Vaziri messed up her cover just to help Jollain out. She's a weird one._


	18. Intoxicating feel

There are few situations where Jollain is more relaxed than when gets the chance to sit down and read one of the books she buys from Nevissa, the local altmer bookseller. She has been going there more often in the last few weeks, and always tries to acquire something new, to learn more things that she hadn’t studied before. In the past, she rarely had the opportunity to indulge such activities, either because the drakes were lacking or because she was far too busy with her tasks. Heists of all sorts used to take up much of her life. Even if the work she does now might still be questionable, at least she has more time to enjoy herself and she won’t complain about that.

While Jollain sips on some tea she prepared earlier, there’s suddenly a knock on her door. If this was a few months ago, after the incident that she suffered due to a certain confrontation, she would be more cautious, but such things have toned down now. Instead, she can almost predict her visitor, due to the fact that she has gotten much closer to a certain person. Even if she’s wrong, she still knows how to deal with intruders, if this were to be one, something she has practiced with Maak-Veh.

“Who is it?”, she calls out.

She hears how someone clears their throat on the other side, and then smiles when the person speaks.  
“It’s Tayerise.”

Of course it is. Who else would visit her like this? The dunmer is coming around a lot more often, usually unannounced. Not every day, sure, but certainly enough that it’s pretty clear that they’re becoming more than simple acquaintances.  
Putting down the book, Jollain practically leaps up from her chair and hurries over to the door, unlocking it without hesitation and swings it open. On the outside, she’s met with a familiar and yet different look.  
Tay is not wearing the usual armor that Jollain has become accustomed to, but a set of civilian-type clothes. She’s dressed in a simple yellow shirt as a top and smooth brown pants further down, with some long black boots. Around her neck hangs a purple striped scarf that reaches down over her chest too.

Jollain eyes her slowly, something that seems to make Tay self-aware. The bosmer’s gaze soon switches to one of amusement and she puts her hands down her own hips.  
“Well, hello there. What’s this I’m seeing, huh? A new look? Didn’t even know you had normal clothes.”

Tay chuckles somewhat awkwardly and shakes her head.  
“Why wouldn’t I have some?”

“I dunno, just never seen you in something like this. You’re almost constantly in armor of some kind.”

Tay raises a hand to scratch at her back of her neck, while also correcting her ponytail.  
“I…suppose so. It’s just that I’m often required to do things for Camonna, and I always want to be prepared in case they call for me.”

Jollain drags her gaze up, meeting Tay’s eyes.  
“So, what’s different today?”

“Well, I have a day off. Requested it weeks ago, and I thought I’d come see you. I…was wondering if you had some spare time.”

It’s not like Tay works every day, but fairly often, at least. If she has a day off for a special reason and heads specifically to Jollain, now that’s very curious. The bosmer tilts her head to enhance this notion.  
“Time for what?”

The question should’ve been obvious, but Tay still turns her eyes down and clears her throat somewhat shyly.  
“If you…haven’t eaten yet, I was wondering if uh, if you wanted to join me. I was going to head down to South Wall for dinner and some drinks. It’d be my treat.”

Now this was an unexpected angle, one that Jollain not only enjoys, but seems absolutely delighted by when she smiles.  
“Your treat, huh? Sure you can handle that?”

“Well…I mean, as long as you don’t order the entire menu.”

Jollain tilts her head backwards and laughs, before she spreads her arms eagerly.  
“Of course I’ll come! Never thought you’d ask, but this sounds like fun! Think I might need a few minutes to prepare, though. You wanna come in?”

She has already turned to walk back inside the apartment, leaving Tay no other option than following her.  
“Sure, I don’t mind.”  
They both enter the living quarters, but before Tay has fully closed the door, she directs her eyes further in and sees how Jollain lifts her shirt up and throws it off. She is turned away from the dunmer, but that only allows Tay to see her naked back.  
“Erm…w-what are you doing?”

Jollain glances over her shoulder, displaying a small smile.  
“Changing clothes, of course. Can’t go out in these rags. Close the door, will you?”

Tay looks away in panicked embarrassment, turning to the exit and clears her throat. Her cheeks and much of her body is currently getting very warm, almost to the extent where it becomes too distracting.  
“I-I’ll just…uh, s-step outside and wait…wait out there, if you don’t-“  
Before she can even do what she’s saying, she has gotten so distracted that she stumbles right into the wall and has to correct herself.  
“…mind.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, instead simply escapes the area as to not humiliate herself any further. This leaves Jollain to giggle alone. Perhaps she should’ve been aware of the fact that Tay can’t watch Jollain like this just yet. Oh well, at least she’s cute.  
It only takes a short while for Jollain to prepare herself, this time having her copper-colored hair out and being adorned in a different loose dress than previously. This one is red with a dark blue sash around her waist and sleeveless. Beneath it, she has a pale-yellow shirt, which covers her arms. Her feet are adorned with flat and somewhat pointed beige shoes.

Immediately upon seeing her, Tay surveys the sight and a small smile finds its way onto her lips. Jollain hadn’t expected any other reaction, but she still wants to hear her say it.  
“What do you think?”

She spins around slowly and Tay nods.  
“You…look amazing. Then again, that’s not really news.”

Jollain stops, a very interested glint in her eyes when she looks up at the dunmer. It’s rare for Tay to get somewhat more deliberate with her praise.  
“Oh, saying you like the look of me, huh?”

Tay’s red eyes turns to face the brown of Jollain’s and the solemn nature of her words seems to grow in strength.  
“Always.”

It’s hard to describe just how it makes Jollain feel to really know how Tay sees her, but it is surprisingly invigorating. She closes the distance between them and wraps both her arms around one of Tay’s, letting their sides collide.  
“Well then, take me away, will you?”

Side by side, they wander down towards the South Wall cornerclub and while that’s not exactly a fancy dining place, neither of them care. In fact, Jollain would say that this is one of the establishments that she feels most comfortable with in Balmora, so if there’s anywhere they’d go, it’s definitely here. It's debatable whether they could afford more expensive alternatives, but this one has a pleasant atmosphere too.  
By now, Jollain has gotten to know a lot of the customers that come here regularly, and several of those who sit within at this moment wave at her as she passes by, greeting her in a friendly manner. Unfortunately, they don’t quite treat Tay with the same hospitality, as most are still very skeptical of the dunmer due to her affiliation, but none can ignore that they’ve become aware of what kind of friendship she has developed with Jollain. If it makes the bosmer happy, who are they to oppose it? As long as Tay doesn’t cause any trouble, of course.

By one of the tables closest to the corner that the duo is aiming for, they see a more prominent member of the Thieves Guild, as Habasi is sitting together with some of her comrades. She gives both of them a slow and deliberate nod, but locks eyes only with Tay.  
“This one hopes you won’t be doing anything unwise during your visit. I doubt anyone of us would want that to happen.”

While most might not hear, Jollain certainly notices how Tay releases a brief sigh through her nose, before she speaks.  
“Don’t worry, I don’t wish to stir up trouble. I’m only here to treat Jollain and let her have a good time, I promise.”

The khajiit smiles and gestures for them to continue.  
“She certainly deserves it. Have a good evening.”

Jollain seems pleased that Habasi isn’t trying to sabotage this event at least, and even more so when her superior winks at her. If the khajiit wanted to, she could’ve easily destroyed their friendship, but either she doesn’t mind, or she thinks it might be beneficial at some point.  
When they’ve approached the table in the back, Tay gets Jollain to her seat first, before turning to leave.

“I’ll order our food”, she says, but doesn’t get very far. She seems to hesitate for a few moments, and then turns around again, scratching the back of her head.  
“Actually…now that I think about it, I don’t know what you prefer to eat.”

Jollain smirks as she gracefully slides down onto her chair and crosses her legs, leaving her arms on the table.  
“Haven’t asked around, huh?”

“Well…no, I guess not. Didn’t know if anyone could actually tell me. Do you mind if I ask?”

“Heh, not at all, though it’s probably pretty boringly obvious. I’m a port city girl, so I’m into all kinds of seafood. It’s what I grew up with.  
I haven’t seen much of that stuff in Balmora, but I think they have some? I’ve heard they do some fishing further down the river, so this place should have something like that available.”

Tay nods briefly.  
“I’ll ask the publican, see what he has.”

Due to the nature of the cornerclub, it often has different meals prepared already, or at least on the way, as the owners get a lot of guests. They have to sit and wait for a while, conversing about the current situation in the city for a brief time, before their order is finished. Tay goes to fetch it and then returns with two bowls, setting down one of them on Jollain’s side. It appears that she has received some kind of stew with saltrice, which doesn’t seem all too bad.

“Ooh, this smells lovely”, Jollain admits. “You know what it is?”

“Yeah, it’s Ash blindfish stew. One of the better local seafood dishes, to be honest. This place uses a lot of good spices too, so it tastes even better.”

Jollain smiles, feeling that the name is probably quite appropriate, and she hopes it tastes as well as it smells. However, she’s also intrigued by what she sees in Tay’s bowl, which is much less wet.  
“What did you get?”

“Netch meat slices, mushrooms and some vegetables.”

“Netch? Uh, isn’t that the…floating jellyfishes or something?”

Tay snorts amusedly, inclines her head and prepares her meal by cutting up some of the mushrooms.  
“I have heard outlanders calling them that, yes. Never seen a ‘jellyfish’ before, so I can’t compare.  
Oh, and then there’s this.”

She lifts up a bottle she left on the floor, placing it instead on the table. This one is somewhat larger than what they usually drink, rounder and doesn’t have the same label.  
“Huh. This isn’t mazte, is it?”

That she recognizes it, seems to make Tay smile and she shakes her head.  
“It’s not. Since we’re eating out today, I figured that we might as well get something nicer to drink. Bought a bottle of sujamma for us; it’s my favorite.”

Jollain has heard of it, even if she hasn’t had the chance to try it yet. She’s growing used to some of the cheaper choices now, and while this isn’t the most expensive either, it’s better than what she normally has. It makes her smile sweetly at Tay to hear it.  
“Is that so? You’re making a girl feel kinda special now, you know. Better watch out, so I don’t latch on.”

Tay displays another small and adorably bashful smile as she pours some sujamma into their wooden mugs.  
“I…I wouldn’t mind that.”

They start to eat, allowing Jollain to get the first taste of her meal and Tay was definiteiyl right about it. She actually thinks this is better than some of the stuff she had back in the capital, and even though she’s not sure if it’s due to the fish or the spices, that doesn’t really matter much. She gets to enjoy this for a while, until there’s something else that makes her curious, which is why she faces Tay again.

“Gotta say that I was kinda surprised you asked me out. Is there a special reason for it, or did you just really wanna hang out?”

She notices how Tay is hesitant at first, whether she actually wants to reveal it or not, but seems to understand that it would be foolish to stay quiet.  
“Well, I did want to get a chance to go out with you as well, but this is also a special day in certain circles, yes. In some parts of our region, they celebrate Vivec’s Clear Wisdom today. It’s when he managed to prevent a massive flooding from happening in the West Gash several centuries ago.  
It doesn’t really affect us much today, but he reshaped parts of the earth enough to stop such things from happening again in the future, and many people wish to thank him, which is why it is celebrated.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Haven’t really noticed anything big, though. I mean, more than the usual sermons.”

Tay shakes her head.  
“It’s not a major festival anymore, due to how much time has passed, but I like to use it with my employers to get a day off for contemplation. I usually save up my coins and do something nice for myself. It is one of our few local Tribunal traditions, after all.  
I suppose you don’t see it much here, because Labor Town has a lot of outlanders, but that’s okay. I don’t mind. It’d be different if you headed to Gnisis, though.”

Jollain listens to the explanation quietly, eating while she gets the chance, until she can respond.  
“Well, if it’s some religious holiday, are you sure you wouldn’t rather spend this time with your family?”

She doesn’t feel entirely confident in the question when Tay suddenly stops and hesitates.  
“No, it’s…it’s not necessary.”  
Tay puts down her fork again and ponders how to proceed. They haven’t chosen to speak much of familial details, perhaps mostly because Jollain wouldn’t have much to say.  
“Parts of my family…well, they don’t really care much for the Tribunal. Not in the same way I do, anyway. I tend to have to do it alone, so, now that you’re here, it felt like a better use of my time to come see you.”

Jollain is both glad and unsure of the answer, due to the fact that she’s not really into these sorts of things herself, but if that’s what Tay wants, then who is she to complain?  
“Well, if there’s anything I can do for you today, go ahead and ask.”

The dunmer faces her more directly and then offers a small smile.  
“I appreciate it, but that’s alright. Nothing special really needs to be done anyhow. I’m simply glad to have you as company.”

Without hesitation, Jollain returns a similar expression and winks.  
“Hey, that’s something I can always do for ya. Being with you is the most fun I have here.”

There’s more silence after this, as they continue to appreciate their meals, sipping on their drinks and taking in the atmosphere around them. Both are pretty thankful that the rest of the clientele are eager to chat, so it doesn’t have to be completely quiet during the more awkward moments. There isn’t usually much of that, as they feel comfortable around each other now, but this is a rather special occasion.  
For Jollain, it’s also quite interesting to see what Tay intends to do, if she wants to act and do more than what they currently have or if she prefers to simply let this be an enjoyable dinner.

A short while later, she gets an answer, as the dunmer clears her throat.  
“I…have to confess that I have really enjoyed spending so much time with you as of late. You are incredible in many ways, which I could’ve never predicted. I’m thankful that you trust me and that we can sit together like this.”  
She pushes her fork around in her bowl for a bit, fidgeting with her response.  
“I don’t have, uh…you know, many friends, certainly none I would call ‘close’.”  
She turns her eyes up, meeting Jollain’s.  
“Before you, that is.”

They haven’t referred to each other like this before, not even called each other ‘friends’ on many occasions. Can Jollain really disregard the idea of it, though?  
“That’s a shame. I honestly think you’re one of the best and most enjoyable people I’ve met on this entire island.  
Wait, scratch that. I think you’re probably one of the best I’ve _ever_ met. Didn’t really have many buddies back in the capital either, so, meeting you has been…different.  
I don’t remember ever encountering a big warrior type who’s as sweet as you either. Sometimes I wonder if you’re too good to be true.”

Tay practically blushes again when she hears it, looking down into her mug, trying to focus on the swirling liquid.  
“…I’m…not that sweet”, she mumbles. “I do work for Camonna.”

“That’s true, but you don’t have the heart of them. You’re so much better than pretty much all of that group.”  
She stops to snort humorously.  
“Divines, if Camonna were more like you, I’d almost wanna join them.”

It isn’t really her intention to make Tay more embarrassed, but she can’t lie in this regard. This seems like a moment of truth, when feelings should be spilled, and there can be no doubt that the dunmer deserves it.  
Another smile appears on Tay’s lips soon after.  
“Thank you.”  
She tries to force her gaze up once more, to share another one with Jollain. The bosmer certainly doesn’t mind it, as Tay’s eyes can be quite captivating.  
“When I look at you, I…I often wonder about the Divines and if I’d want to convert.”

Jollain stops once more and arches her brow questioningly.  
“What? Wait, why would you wanna do that?”

Tay opens her mouth, but hesitates and lets her gaze drift away again. She looks like she really wants to say something, but is way too shy to commit. Somehow, Jollain has a feeling of what type of response is coming, but isn’t sure if Tay will dare to say it. Jollain prevents herself from asking again, not wanting to push Tay.  
“B-because…I often feel that I spend time with someone, erm…blessed by Dibella.”

Not that she expected these exact words, but she had a feeling it was going in this direction. Jollain displays an interesting mix of amusement and surprise.  
“You know of the Nine Divines? I mean, their areas of worship, that is. Didn’t think you would.”

Tay coughs and shrugs.  
“I’m not really an expert or anything. The priests at the Temple never taught us much, but I remember reading a book about them once. This was years ago, though.”

Not that it’s news, but Jollain is starting to understand how seriously Tay takes the spirituality.  
However, she also can’t help but smirk now as well.  
“Hah, right. And of course, the one you’d choose to remember is the pretty lady.”

Tay widens her eyes and raises her hands to shake them.  
“W-what? N-no no! I…I didn’t mean as if it’s the only one I care about, I just…”

Jollain interrupts her by laughing. Perhaps she shouldn’t tease Tay so much, but it is an endless source of fun.  
“It’s okay, Tay. I like her too. I don’t mind it at all if you think of me when you mention her either”, she states, followed by a sly wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The holiday name is uh...just something I came up with. Doesn't really exist in-game, as far as I know._   
>  _I'm not entirely sure of how much time passes in this fic, but I imagine that the entire thing probably plays out over like, somewhat less than a year. I don't really specify this, but I think that's how it'll end up looking._   
>  _The next fic (during the Seven Trials), will probably have the same timeline._


	19. The lost limb

It’s a pleasantly warm day in Balmora, despite the cloudy sky, when Jollain wanders in towards Caius’ house. She’s in a good mood, as she has been for the last couple of days.  
It’s been a few weeks now since the incident in Sadrith Mora, and while that wasn’t a joyous occasion, the time since then has gone really well. She can’t say for certain what the repercussions will be in the end, but that doesn’t matter as much to her situation in the city and on Vvardenfell in general.  
Not only has her training been fairly successful, her job in the Thieves Guild – plus the benefit to the Blades – has been lucrative, and she has made a lot of social connections…especially with certain individuals.

When she gets into some of this with Caius, he sits quietly for a while, with a smile on his lips and merely nods. Eventually, when she takes a break in her explanation, he decides to speak.  
“Well, I’m glad that you’re settling in more and more, as that’s how it should be. You’re quickly becoming one of my best new agents.”

Jollain smirks at him from where she’s seated and folds her arms.  
“Just the new ones, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’d be fair to compare you to some of the people like Maak-Veh; they are in a league of their own. Maybe in another decade or so.”

She snorts humorously and shakes her head.  
“Dunno if I’ll be around for that long, but I suppose we’ll have to see.”

“Indeed. However, that’s not why I called you here today. I asked you to come, because I’m fairly curious of the relationship you’ve been creating with this one member of Camonna Tong. Perhaps you can tell me about her?”

That makes her hesitate and the smile disperses. She has told him about Tayerise, albeit not in detail.  
“Uh, okay, sure. What do you wanna know?”

“How well are you acquainted with her? Do you trust her? That sort of thing.”

Jollain takes a deep breath, thinking the question through and what she’d be comfortable with revealing.  
“Well, erm…I guess I trust her, yeah. She’s been good to me, anyway, and as far as I know, she’s pretty bad at lying. Ever since that first encounter and our little fight, she has done her best to make amends and then slowly work her way up to my good side. We’ve pretty much been getting closer to each other by the day, and I…” she clears her throat, “…I do like her.”

She hopes not to give too much away, but Caius doesn’t make any specific remark on that answer, merely nodding a few times.  
“Right. And does she trust you back?”

Jollain isn’t exactly sure where this is going and what he wants to get out of it, but she doesn’t have much choice other than to answer. She runs a hand up to her hair, correcting her ponytail while she does.  
“I…suppose so? I’m still not sure what to call our relationship, whether we’re friends or…something more. Still, she’s nice to me and she has gone with me on a lot of things. Doesn’t mind meeting me in pretty public places, despite our different organizations.”

Her response seems to satisfy him, or at least he is even more interested.  
“Glad to hear it. Then, if you don’t mind, I have a special assignment for you. I’d like you to talk with this Tayerise, and ask her a few questions about certain topics.”

Not exactly the usual type of work he assigns her. She doesn’t think he has ever told her to specifically target anyone she knows for resources.  
“Uh, okay. ‘Certain topics’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just a few areas of interests, simple things that we haven’t yet been able to attain clear intel on. I believe she may have the answer for us, though.”

If he wanted her to be okay with this, then he will likely be disappointed, due to how unsure she both looks and feels.  
“I…I dunno. You want me to use my relationship with her to extract information? That just doesn’t feel right.”

Caius was looking quite lenient and gentle for the most part, up until she says this, which is when he furrows his brow.  
“Jollain, I don’t want to start getting strict with you, because I like you and you have done very well during your relatively short stay here, but remember who you are. You’re a Blades agent first and foremost, something I hope you realize. You can’t ignore your duty.”

She looks down at her clothes, fidgeting with her sleeves a bit. She probably feels this insecurity right now because she knows he has a point. But, what will this kind of thing do to her friendship? Will this jeopardize her trust?  
Eventually, she sighs and seemingly gives in. It’s not like she has much of a choice anyway. How can she oppose her superior, one of the few people she can rely on in Morrowind or maybe even in all of Tamriel?

“Okay, fine. What do you want me to ask her?”

* * *

  
A couple of hours later, Jollain and Tayerise are sitting together on an assortment of rocks, somewhere in the outskirts of Balmora. They’re in public together, but not exactly within view of the majority of citizens, which has been the way that they prefer to operate. Not that they actually mind being seen together on a personal level, but neither of them can ignore what kind of consequences might appear if Camonna starts seeing more of it and begin to question them. At least the Thieves Guild has mostly left them alone.

They haven’t spoken much on the way here, but now that they’re finally alone, Jollain smiles at her and wraps her arms around the tall dunmer, which makes Tay feel quite shy, even if she eagerly accepts it. Ever since that time they had dinner together, Jollain has been getting more intimate, wanting to hold hands or embrace her companion. It can’t be denied how huggable of a person Tay really is, even if she disagrees with that assessment.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention – thank you for inviting me last time. It was…surprisingly enjoyable to drink with you and Maak.”

Jollain curls her lips somewhat, amused now that Tay has been starting to call him by only half the name as well. During the past few weeks, they’ve met on a handful of occasions, as Jollain likes to bring her friends together.  
“Hey, no need to thank me. We were just having fun.”

Tay smiles at her and shrugs.  
“Perhaps, but I rarely get to do that.”

“What, Camonna don’t make great drinking buddies?”

The warrior snorts, but she also briefly shakes her head.  
“I think you know the answer.”

Jollain giggles.  
“I probably do. You didn’t get into trouble, though, did you? Not worth it if they have to scold you afterwards.”

Thankfully, Tay dismisses the thought with a wave.  
“Not at all. Don’t think they even noticed. However, it was probably wise that we didn’t drink at South Wall. I’ve been seeing some of them around that area lately.”

“Have they…spotted you there?”, Jollain asks her tentatively.

Tay turns her eyes away somewhat and furrows her brow.  
“I’m not sure, but I think some are growing suspicious. I’ve been getting some questions now and then, asking where I go and such. I’ve heard that they occasionally do some…purges of members who go the ‘wrong way’, but I’ve avoided answering truthfully so far. I’m still someone mostly for hire and not a dedicated member. Like an internal freelancer, I guess.”

It’s not really possible for Jollain to ignore the sting of worry in her chest, which is why she reaches out and wraps her fingers around Tay’s hand, giving the dunmer a sincere look.  
“You know you can always talk to me if you want to get out, right? I’m here for you.”

Turning her focus slightly, Tay looks into Jollain’s eyes and hesitates.  
“I know that, and I understand, but…” She pauses, takes a deep breath and exhales through her nose.  
“I will consider it another time. I don’t quite know how I feel yet.”

Even if she called for this meeting for other reasons, Jollain can’t really ignore the fact that she worries more for Tay’s safety, than whatever stuff Caius wanted to get out of her. It makes her feel bad to switch topics now, but it’s probably for the best.  
“Hey, you want something to eat? I brought some dried fruit.”

Tay’s expression softens, and she looks at her curiously.  
“Oh? What kind?”

Jollain smiles and opens her bag, fishing out some orange-looking items in a pouch.  
“Found these in one of the local stores. It’s called ‘clementine’ apparently, and they arrived with a shipment from Elsweyr. The merchant said they’re supposed to be pretty tasty and filled with flavor.”

Tay blinks and looks at the piece she’s given with fascination.  
“Huh. Well, that’s certainly very far away. Didn’t know we even got shipments from over there.”

“Heh, yeah, guess that’s at least one small benefit with trade routes being all over the Empire; sometimes you get stuff that’s from a place you’ve never been to.”

The two starts to eat some of the small treats Jollain brought with her in silence and the bosmer studies Tay while they do, trying to predict her reaction. Eventually, she nods slowly.  
“Mm, yeah, pretty good, actually.”

Jollain starts to smile brightly, even if she can’t really take credit for all this. She’s just glad that she could make Tay happy. Perhaps some of that has to do with alleviating the guilt of what’s coming up next.  
“So uh, I wanted to talk about something specific, if that’s okay.”

She sounds somewhat unsure when she asks, but Tay isn’t bothered by it. In fact, she is usually available to talk about anything, which may be a detriment for her, in this case.  
“Of course. I’m always open for any questions from you, no matter what. You should know that.”

Clearing her throat somewhat awkwardly, Jollain tries to correct her position and fidgets around before she gets to the question.  
“Not sure if you’ll feel the same way after it’s done, but I suppose we’ll see how that goes.  
I’m interested in a particular group that I’ve heard of recently, which I figure you might know more about. I don’t have many detail, but they’ve been called the ‘Sixth House’. Ring any bells?”

She doesn’t even need to ask that, because just the name itself brings doubt into Tay’s eyes. Jollain expected as much.  
“Why…would you ask about them? Have you run into them?”

“Not personally, no, but…”  
Jollain has to swallow at least once, feeling horrible about the lie that is coming. But what else can she say? Caius would never allow her to be honest. Tay is nothing to the Blades, other than a resource.  
“The Guild had a run in with some weird group, somewhere to the west, and something happened.  
Not a lot of details yet, but what we know so far is that there are rumors of the group calling themselves the ‘Sixth House’. I thought it was…kinda weird, I guess. Figured I’d ask you.”

Reading Tay’s expression, it does at least appear that she believes the excuse, even if she remains skeptical. This probably means that it’s a plausible reason, but not necessarily good in any way.  
“Well, you should probably know that it might be dangerous for both of us to talk about it.”

This could be it, where they simply stop and let it be. It’s what Jollain would certainly prefer, but she knows that this isn’t really an option.  
“Okay, but…I mean, if really don’t want to, then I won’t force you, but it would be nice to know what we’re facing. I just hating going in blind against something like this, you know?”

Tay studies Jollain’s face for a few moments, although it’s unclear what she’s looking for. The truth or just a reason to keep her from all the answers?  
Regardless, she eventually gives in. For now, she has simply left the next fruit slice in her hand, not wanting to bite into it yet.  
“I can’t say anything with absolute certainty, of course, as I don’t know a great amount of information about them in general, but there are two things I do know.  
In history, the Sixth House is an old dead dunmer Great House. They existed centuries ago, and was known as ‘Dagoth’. In the Temple, House Dagoth is the great antagonist and enemy of the Tribunal, seen as a destroyer and a foul corruption.”

Jollain watches her with a bit of astonishment.  
“Oh…wow, okay. I hope that’s not who we’ve run into now. That sounds pretty bad.”

Even if the topic they’re discussing isn’t really all that funny, there’s at least a little bit of amusement to Tay’s snort.  
“I doubt it is. That would be quite astoundingly unlucky, to be honest.  
The real ones, in our current era, are no more than a smuggling group. They’ve been getting increasingly prominent in the last couple of years, after building reputation and partnership with various groups.”

That’s not a great amount of details, but Jollain feels there’s more to it, which is why she narrows her eyes slightly.  
“And you know this because…?”

Tay faces her friend, uncertainty roaming all over her when she contemplates not saying anything else, but is too guilty to stay quiet.  
“Because they’ve been cooperating with Camonna. After starting out as a pretty small group of allies, they’ve been growing at a steady rate, to the extent where the Tong now depends upon them quite a lot for certain wares. Most of the transfers are done in smaller villages along the Bitter Coast. The Sixth House usually sail in, discuss business, buy and sell stuff to the Tong, and then leave. I don’t know where they come from, who’s in their leadership or any of the details, but this is what I’ve heard. As a guard, I don’t really get to encounter them myself.”

Jollain runs a hand over her chin in thought, as her eyes drift away. Well, at least they’ve got a place, although it’s not necessarily strange. The Bitter Coast is also known informally as the ‘Smuggler’s Coast’, since that area is littered with secluded coves, islands and caves, which makes it perfect for this sort of thing. Despite having spent years, perhaps decades, maybe even centuries on it, no one has fully been able to root out all of them. They always find new places, act too quickly, or simply disappear, to set up shop again when an area has been forgotten.

“What’s with the name, though?”, Jollain asks. “Why would they go with the ‘Sixth House’ if they’re just smugglers?”

Tay spreads her arms into a shrug.  
“It’s a mystery to me. Maybe they simply think it sounds intimidating, which is kinda silly. Like I said, though, they haven’t been here for long. A year or two, maybe?”

“That’s a pretty short time to go from ‘unknown’ to ‘one of Camonna’s most crucial partners’, at least as far as smugglers go.”

Both of them at least have some knowledge of how the underworld works. No matter where one goes, it’s still pretty hard to establish a group, unless you have exactly the right connections.  
“I agree, but that’s what’s been happening. I don’t speak a lot with the leadership, so I can’t say I’m sure whether they’re comfortable with it or not. Either way, I wouldn’t have thought they’d run into your Guild.”

Jollain arches her brow skeptically.  
“Why not? We’re in the same business.”

“Well, I mean, sure, it’s both in the business of crime, but the Thieves Guild don’t actually do much in terms of operating with Camonna, right? Unless they tried to make a deal with the Sixth House that went poorly.”

Jollain shrugs, hoping that it looks casual enough.  
“Who knows? My contacts don’t seem to know much either, other than the actual conflict. Maybe Camonna’s leadership convinced these smugglers to get involved, set a trap for them.”

Tay’s expression seems to echo Jollain’s feelings on this matter.  
“That is…quite a terrifying prospect. There’s enough fighting already; don’t need to involve a second group in this.”

Finding no reason to disagree, Jollain shuts her eyes, sighs, and then leans against Tay, hugging her once more.  
“Thank you for telling me about this, anyway. I feel a little better now, even if the news weren’t great. At least I know more.”

A small smile appears on Tay’s lips and she returns the embrace, glad to hold her companion close.  
“No need. If I can help in keeping you safe, that’s what matters.”

Jollain won’t deny how lucky she feels to have met Tay, despite the initially kinda volatile situation that they ended up in. If only she can get the warrior out of that crappy group, perhaps things can get even better.  
“Not sure if I wanna tell anyone about this, though, at least not in the Guild. They sound too…ominous, and I think it’s best if we stay away from them.”

Tay runs a hand down over Jollain’s head, stroking her fingers through the copper-colored hair.  
“I don’t want to tell you what to do, of course, but I agree it would probably be unwise. Do what you think is best and I’ll support you.”


	20. Eruption

During the several months she has spent on Vvardenfell, Jollain feels like she has been a bit everywhere so far, having been able to see pretty much every kind of architecture, authority and people there are on this island, except perhaps the Ashlanders. However, she had forgotten that there are more imperial-inspired sections of Vvardenfell than just Seyda Neen, perhaps mostly because she didn’t believe she’d get to visit any such place in quite a while.

Caldera seemed like a nice enough town, from the outside. Reminded her of some places she had visited in Cyrodiil, but smaller, even if she can’t say that she wandered too much back in that land either. Apparently, it’s best known for its local mine and the ebony they dig out of it, along with being the only imperial settlement in the West Gash region. The houses certainly look newer here than in some other places, but due to the Empire's fairly late admission into Vvardenfell, that’s obviously not a strange notion for anyone.

Whether Jollain feels safe enough here or not is fairly questionable. Some might wonder if it’s due to seeing imperial legionnaires out here, possibly giving her flashbacks to the Watch in the capital, but that’s not it at all. Her mind is mostly flooded with the news that she was given a while back now, by Legate Svalen. Hadn’t she said something about that an imperial official had been murdered in Caldera? You wouldn’t think so, based on the inhabitants’ unworried behavior, but one likely can’t judge the overall mood with mere initial glances.

Her purpose for being here has nothing to do with her real position, though, as she’s instead accompanied by a bunch of other people. Quite a few members of the Thieves Guild are gathered in and around one of the alleys in town, waiting for their leader. They followed Habasi to Caldera, accompanying her when she called, and now watch the surroundings while she discusses something with their local representative. The Thieves Guild obviously has a presence in pretty much every imperial town; that’s where they started spreading from to the rest of the island, after all.

While Jollain came with them and knew that something would be required of her, for now, she mostly stays in the background, arms folded and leaning against a wall. This is where she’s at her best, when people get a chance to underestimate or not even notice her. Habasi seemed adamant that she had to join, though, probably based on her skills. The news of Jollain’s stealthier capabilities has quickly spread among the rest of the local section of the guild, to the point where people are saying she’s probably one of the best on that front. She’s not as sure about it herself, as she did get noticed by Tayerise that one time, but she won’t discourage the idea. Might earn more pay that way.

Once Habasi is done talking, she turns around and walks back to where the rest are waiting, while the representative hurries off, probably to not break their cover. Gotta keep silent about who they associate with.  
When the khajiit comes close, people start to gather, drawn to her like moths to a flame; she has always had that pull too, a sort of natural leader among thieves.

“Alright, I know you are all anxious, so it is time for Habasi to reveal the truth of why we’re here.  
The reason this one has dragged you all to the north is pretty simple, even if the task is not – we are in Caldera because of House Hlaalu.  
For months now, we’ve been gathering information, rumors, items, all sorts of things so that we can finally turn them around. One of their Council members, Nevena Ules, has come to Caldera for some type of business, and we have to act on that opportunity.  
Habasi and a few of you – not everyone - will approach Nevena regarding some of this intel we have. We will present her with enough evidence that her life will become quite troublesome if she does not cooperate. And I think you all know what we want, yes? It is time that she stops licking Camonna’s boots, with our help.”

Everyone else nods, seeming quite eager at the idea. They’ve basically had to fight uphill for most of the time here, but now, power might finally start to shift.  
“And I guess it doesn’t stop there?”, Jollain asks.

Habasi looks amused, but inclines her head.  
“Of course not, for that would not be anywhere nearly enough. We will obviously try to persuade the good Councilor that it is in her best interest to…align herself with us instead. However, this will have to be done subtly. We can’t just start to make demands, as that will probably turn us away from her favor. Remember, these people are filled with pride and think they’re above us, whether we are outlanders or not.”

She says this as the Thieves Guild obviously has several dunmer, even in this group that Habasi took with her.  
“What do you need of us?”, one of them asks now.

“Basically, most of you are here to provide protection, as it is likely that the Councilor has several Hlaalu guards with her, and Habasi is not such a great fighter that I can take down all of them. Remember that we are not looking for a fight, though. Hopefully, none of it will be necessary, but we need to take precautions regardless.”

All that she says sort of makes sense, and no one in this gang are really looking to do battle either. Well, there might be some who are kinda itching to stab someone, but it’s not as bad as it would be in the Fighters Guild.  
That said, Jollain is still curious of a few more things.  
“What about the Legion?”, she asks. “I mean, they’ve got quite a few troops around. What do we do if they make a move?”

Habasi shakes her head.  
“This one doesn’t think it will be a problem. As long as we focus all our attention on Nevena, I have a feeling that Hlaalu will tell the Legion to keep their distance. Since she is a Councilor, the Legion won’t mess with what she wants.”

It’s pretty clear from their expressions that not everyone is completely confident in the plan, but no one will openly oppose it either. It’s better than nothing, and it’s going to mean a lot of change in the Guild’s business. This is why everyone needs to prepare themselves, be on their best behavior and stay focused.  
Shortly after, Habasi picks out a few people to join her on their approach, and Jollain isn’t particularly surprised when the khajiit chooses her. She has become some sort of rookie favorite, potentially a protégé to the leader, which is kinda strange to consider. Jollain feels like she already knows enough, even if she won’t say that she’s better than Habasi. Maybe she’s training the bosmer for something specific?

While everyone had been quite tense prior to the actual encounter, as there are a lot of uncertainties involved and questions without clear answers, that is nothing compared to the shock that occurs when they approach the group that they assume to be Nevena’s. Movement had been sighted and Habasi seemed pretty confident that now was the time, but there is no Councilor who awaits them.  
Out from the corner walks a few people, about the same size as Habasi’s group, all of them dunmer. The one at the center of this group is a particularly intimidating fellow – somewhat lighter grey skin, black hair that points upwards, fierce red eyes, and a body that is both massive and tall. He wears heavy armor, several piercings in his large pointed ears and there are a few noticeable scars on his face, particularly one straight across his lips, down to his neck.

Habasi widens her eyes at first, before she frowns and takes a step back.  
"Orvas Dren?”

The rest of the Guild members with her stop, all of them mirroring her tension when they hear the name of Camonna Tong's leader. Orvas does not come alone either, as he has about as many escorts as Habasi. The one right by his side has longer straighter black-red hair, with a thick beard of the same color, wearing medium heavy armor. Right behind them stands a very familiar face, especially to Jollain. Tayerise also widens her eyes on approach.  
“…Jollain?”, she says quietly.

“…shit”, says the bosmer and then swallows.

The bearded dunmer looks at her when he hears it, before he glances between them.  
Orvas seems completely uninterested in whatever Tay’s concern is, as he only has eyes for the khajiit.  
“Well well”, he says in a smug gruff voice, “Don’t I recognize you? Areval, you’ve got all the names for these types of scumbags, right? You know her name?”

The bearded one tears his gaze away from whatever his former interest was, shifts his eyes to the leader and smirks.  
“I think I do, sir. I believe this is Habasi.”

The khajiit frowns and folds her arms, trying not to look too intimidated, but her companions know that’s not true, based on her stance.  
“Ahh, the famous Sugar-Lips”, Orvas says, before he chuckles. “Finally, we get to meet face to face. You dunno how long I’ve been waiting for this chance, cat.”

Habasi’s furrowed brows seems to dig even deeper down her face, as she clenches her hands. They are not too far away from the hilt of her blades by now, even if she hasn’t initiated any idea that they’re going to fight yet.  
“What in Oblivion are you doing here, Dren?”

He grins back at her.  
“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Caldera is not your territory.”

“Hah! That’s where you’re wrong. You should know by now that _all_ of Vvardenfell belongs to the dunmer, and wherever our people go, Camonna will be there.  
But I get it, I think I know why you’re here. Perhaps you all heard of a little Hlaalu party in the locality? Maybe a certain Ules coming for a visit?  
Sorry to be the one to break it to ya, but there’s no one by that name in town. It’s just me, and my boys and girls.”

Habasi shuts her eyes, guilt briefly appearing on her face.  
“Shit. A ruse, huh? Very clever, Dren.”

Orvas seem particularly pleased that she’s willing to admit defeat so quickly.  
“Not at all. You think I don’t know what happens in Balmora, or the West Gash, or the entire Vvardenfell? I have eyes everywhere, n’wah, and I know what you people do. You think you’re so fucking clever all the time, but I’m always two steps ahead. The faster you realize this, the easier your inevitable deaths will be.”

Well, obviously it’s not just Habasi feeling uncertain about the situation or what’s going to happen, but the biggest problem now is how to get out of it alive.  
Habasi shakes her head, stares at Orvas and raises her hand.  
“Fine, we admit that this round goes to you, but I do not seek a direct conflict, especially not out here. Let’s separate peacefully, and Habasi promises that we will not pursue this plan any longer.”

The dunmer group keeps staring at her for a little while, until Orvas suddenly erupts in laughter, something that the others imitate, except for Tay.  
“You think you’re in any position to negotiate? You idiot. The only way you’re leaving, kitty, is in cuffs, shoved into the back of our wagon.”

Jollain frowns and mutters, so that only her fellow guild members hear.  
“Pleasant guy.”

Habasi raises her arm and points at him.  
“Watch yourself, Dren”, she warns him. “I did not come here alone. I have a whole group of armed Guild members with me, just waiting for a potential confrontation. Back away now, or this gets ugly.”

He laughs once more, still in a very mocking manner. He must really be enjoying this, but that doesn’t surprise Jollain. He looks like the kind of guy who loves a good street fight.  
“You think I came here emptyhanded, with just the few guards around me? It’s both foolish and insulting, n’wah, that you believe I’m that stupid. I just brought these fellas with me out of courtesy, to not make you run away like the little shit you are.  
You have a choice – either surrender yourself and come with us now, or we’re going to have ourselves a good old-fashioned brawl right here on the streets. Might be fun to do the latter, actually, as I don’t think this shitty foreign town has seen enough blood on its streets yet.”

After this threat, it’s very silent, as the mental pressure between the two groups keeps growing, rising to the extent where it almost feels as if it actually becomes warm. No one knows what to do or what would be preferable, especially not Jollain and Tay. They both look at each other, sharing a gaze that clearly states they do not warn to hurt one another. This was a conflict they were afraid might happen at some point, but they had kept hoping it was just a fear, not a reality.

Unfortunately, the peace breaks when one of the thieves - a female breton by the looks of it - turns around and flees, ignoring any idea of following orders, and instead tries to get into the closest alleyway.  
Areval is first to react to this choice, putting his hand up to his chest and grabs the hilt of a dagger he keeps there. He neither waits for permission or hesitates, as he tosses it after the breton and hits her right in the back. She falls to the ground with a pained groan.

Shortly after, it feels as if the gates of Oblivion open up, as both Habasi and Orvas raise their voices.  
_“Reinforcements, now!”_

While Habasi pulls out two glass daggers, Orvas puts his hand to the blade on his back, unsheathing a huge ebony greatsword. If Jollain were to guess, he probably didn’t attain permission to have that crafted.  
As the fighting starts for real, and the various members from both groups collide with each other, Jollain sort of gets lost in the crowd, unsure where to go or how to act. She considers escaping for a moment, but knows she can’t leave her friends and allies here. In the past, the Guild was nothing to her, as she was just a freelancer, doing whatever she thought was best for herself. That mindset no longer applies.

Seeing how one of the Camonna dunmer tries to flank Habasi, Jollain pulls out her sword and hurries in their direction, lifts it and just barely parries the axe that comes down at her leader. The dunmer glares at her instead, shoving her away and tries to give her a good chop, but with her speed, she easily ducks and sidesteps.  
For the next half minute or so, the two of them duel, their weapons colliding over and over as they try to spot a weakness in the other's stance. Jollain hasn’t been in many fights, certainly not open brawls and it makes her nervous. What soothes her is surprisingly something from within.

 _“Stay calm, take a deep breath and ignore everything else”_ , she hears, as she recalls Maak-Veh’s words. _“If you have an opponent, shut out the chaos around you, try to focus exactly on what you’re facing. Don’t look at their eyes or their weapon. Instead, watch the hands and the feet, see how they move and what they’re planning. Their strength doesn’t matter, not with your speed. Guide them into a false sense of security, before you strike.”_

She does as her teacher told her, letting the dunmer feel like he’s leading the fight, as if he has the upper hand and Jollain is constantly defending. Technically, that is what she does, but she waits for the right opportunity, like a hunter seeking its prey. All she needs are the right tracks, the correct sign of weakness.  
Eventually, it arrives, when she evades yet another attack, one that he tried to launch so hard that he stumbles forward when he misses. She spots her opportunity and lashes out, slicing at the back of his knee. He shouts in agony, before he loses his footing and falls to one leg. Jollain doesn’t hesitate for a moment, acting on pure survival instinct as she digs her blade right into his back. Blood shoots out from his body, but he doesn’t say much, as he seems too shocked by the sudden reversal. Moments later, he tumbles to the ground.

Jollain takes several deep breaths before she pulls out her weapon, looking down at the body. She has killed before, but only in self-defense and not with such efficiency. She isn’t sure if she has ever stayed to watch someone die like this and the feeling makes her uneasy. Was this the right thing to do? Should she have maybe knocked him out instead of killing him? He was trying to kill her, sure, but…does this make her a murderer or just someone trying to remain alive in this damn place?

She shakes these thoughts out of her and instead tries to focus on her surroundings. At this point, she can’t afford to dwell on them anyway, as she needs to find someone specific. In the distance, she spots the woman that she is most worried about, currently sparring with a member of her Guild.  
“Tayerise!”, she calls out, but the dunmer is too preoccupied to listen.

Jollain hurries forward, hoping to approach her and potentially prevent her from getting hurt, but the bosmer never gets that far. Along the way, she is suddenly stopped by another dunmer, somewhat shorter, but one she definitely recognizes. It’s Areval, who has a blade in his own hand and glares at her.  
“And where do you think you’re going?”

Her response is unfortunately delayed, as he attacks, forcing her to parry the blade in an attempt to get back into her battle stance. Did he really have to do this now?  
“Hey, stop it! Listen, I don’t really want to fight you guys! I just wanna find Tayerise, nothing more.”

One thing she notices pretty quickly is how Areval isn’t just faster than the last guy she fought, but more skilled as well, making each block much harder to do. After a moment, he steps back and eyes her, his scowl deepening.  
“So, you’re the damn bitch who’s been trying to poison my sister.”

Jollain looks very confused at first, wondering what that’s all about.  
“Wait, what? Your-“, it dawns on her quicker than she manages to speak and she widens her eyes, before sighing. “…ah, Dibella’s tits.”

They start to circle each other, even if Jollain would rather just break away.  
“You thought you’d get away with this, huh? That you could get her over to your side? I’m not gonna allow that, n’wah.”

Well, she knew that Tay didn’t want to talk about her family and suddenly it makes a lot of sense.  
“Listen, Areval or whatever your name was, if you’re really her brother, I don’t want to fight you. Seriously, I don’t.”

“Too bad”, he says and launches at her again. She has to take several quick steps back, just barely able to turn his strikes away. He’s definitely good, probably better than her, which makes this pretty damn hard.  
“You have caused our family enough problems by trying to influence Tay’s mind. It’s time I ended this shit.”

“You don’t need to, seriously! I’m not trying to turn her anywhere, I just wanna be her friend.”

“She doesn’t need a fucking short tree-obsessed freak as a friend!”

“…I don’t even like trees, you idiot!”

Not entirely true, but she can’t think of anything else when someone is literally trying to take her life. She tries her best to lead him into the rest of the fighting that goes on, to somehow find a path to escape his reach, but he’s seriously observant, getting around each of the obstacles she provides him with. He must really hate her for simply talking with Tay. Why would that even be? Does he not want his sister to have a friend? Sure, she may not be a dunmer, but this is just ridiculous.

Eventually, they are both distracted almost simultaneously by movement in the outskirts of the battle. More armed people are coming to surround the area, but it is neither members from the Guild nor from the Tong. They wear different types of armor, uniform and marked with dragon symbols. Most of the warriors of this new group also seem to be human, and they don’t take sides in this, as they have their own.

From one of the streets, they suddenly hear someone speaking up quite loudly, clearly amplified by some kind of tool, or possibly magic.  
“Armed individuals, this is Legate Asta Svalen of the Imperial Legion”, she calls out, making Jollain curse to herself. “You are engaged in an unlawful act of violence on the streets of Caldera. We have the area surrounded and demand that you lay down your weapons and surrender yourselves, or we will be forced to act with an equal measure of hostility. I repeat, lay down your weapons and surrender yourselves to the law immediately.”

While a few stops fighting, others do not, as they seem to ignore whatever the imperials want. There are even a small number of people who threaten the Legion from afar, and that is what gets them to act before either of the leaders can make a decision. The legionnaires rush in, mostly aiming to disarm whatever people they run into, doesn’t matter which faction it is from. They are quite effective too, as they are many more than either side, and each are highly trained soldiers.

“Do not try to escape, threaten or fight against a legionnaire”, Asta continues. “A hostile act will not be shown mercy. I repeat, do not attempt to fight back. You will follow the protocols of imperial arrest, or we will be forced to enact justice immediately.”

Some try to run, some follow orders, while a small group fight back, most of these being Camonna. Jollain does not wish to be from either of the secondary groups, nor does she plan to be.  
In the distance, she can see how both Habasi and Orvas manage to escape through separate routes, disappearing behind some buildings.  
Despite the situation they’re in, it doesn’t seem like Areval has given up. Once more, he jumps at her, trying to dig his blade into her body.

“You’re not getting away from me, n’wah!”, he tells her, while his glare intensifies.

She frowns and defends herself, knowing that it won’t look good for the legionnaires if she continues to hold a blade, but she can’t put it down either, as it will give him an opening.  
“You’re crazy! Haven’t you seen what’s going on? They’re going to kill us if we fight back!”

“And let them have all the fun? Nah, I’ll take care of you myself!”

It seems like he’s not about to give up, not even when there really is no other way out of this than to surrender or escape. Well, if he wants to stay, she doesn’t mind letting him.  
In a rather foolhardy gesture, she goes for an attack for once, but not to strike at him. Instead, she dodges and deflects his weapon, until she’s close enough to touch him. She runs right into him, their bodies colliding, which both surprises and annoys him. This is perfect for her, as he underestimates her strategy.

As he attempts to grab ahold of her shoulder, to get a good angle to stab, she raises her hand up to his neck and places the palm against his skin. She doesn’t get a good grip, but that isn’t the purpose.  
Magic erupts from her fingers, digging into his skin and his eyes shoot open in pure shock, never having expected this outcome. His back arches somewhat and he loses control too much to even scream. Becoming stunned, he falls to the ground and she leaves him there.

In the distance, she notices a sight that makes her momentarily fearful, as she realizes that Tay is on her way and she just witnessed what Jollain did. The bosmer hesitates, not knowing if she should approach Tay and apologize, or flee. The dunmer seems equally reluctant to give an answer, but she is the one to act first. She shakes her head and gestures with her hand, showing her friend to get out of here. Jollain would like to explain herself, but there’s probably no time for that. With a last glance at Areval, she runs.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t get very far, as when she reaches some of the alleys to the south, she is prevented from going any further by three imperial soldiers wielding swords and shields.  
“Halt!”, they call out after her, holding their weapons up. “In the name of the Emperor, surrender!”

Jollain hesitates momentarily, swallowing and almost thinks to tell them that they’ve got the wrong person, but that would give too much away. How would they even know, anyway?  
She drops her weapon and steps back, holding her arms up.  
“Okay, you got me. I won’t go anywhere. Just let me-“  
Unfortunately, they aren’t very lenient and instead grabs her arm, turning it behind her back and then shoves her front first against the closest house wall. She grits her teeth and frowns.  
“Hey, what the fuck? Let me go! You can’t treat me like this!”

“Shut up, criminal scum! You are in the hands of imperial law now and you’ll be behind bars for this.”

Great, just great. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to experience that ever again, but it’s never that easy, is it?  
Fortunately, she is not alone out here, which is what she realizes when a fairly stern voice speaks up, approaching them.  
“You heard the lady, let her go.”

The imperial soldiers all turn around to see a much taller woman – it is the older nord and leader of this entire operation, Legate Asta. Jollain doesn’t think she has ever been so glad to see her.  
“Uh…what did you say, sir?”, one of them asks.

Asta frowns at him.  
“Did you not hear me, soldier? Do you want me to repeat the order I just give you? I hope you listen to your superiors.”

He looks unsure, along with the other two, but they don’t wait. They immediately let go of Jollain, who brushes off her clothes.  
“Y-yes sir. Apologies, sir. We did not mean to cause offense.  
Is there anything you need us to do with this criminal, Legate?”

She merely waves dismissively at them.  
“No, I will take care of her myself. Move into the center and continue with arrest of the other fighters.”

“Yes, Legate!”

They follow her orders, leaving only Asta and Jollain in the alley. The bosmer corrects her clothes and equipment, before she clears her throat and glances up at Asta momentarily.  
“Uh, thanks.”

The nord stares at the much shorter and younger woman, before she sighs.  
“This isn’t helping your position, you know. I can’t make exceptions for you every time.”

Jollain frowns at her.  
“Hey, this isn’t my fault. You think I wanted this fight? I had to do what they told me to.”

Asta shakes her head, but she doesn’t really have a counterargument. She knows what Caius expects from his agents.  
“Get out of here. I’ll make up some excuse for you.”  
Before she manages to leave, Asta grabs her shoulder and give her a few last words.  
“At least _try_ to stay out of trouble from now on, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, _mom_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Felt like this kind of fic always needed a confrontation between these two groups._   
>  _And yeah, we're not done with Areval, not by a long shot._


	21. Pleading gaze

It would be difficult to call this situation anything else than ‘tense’. Perhaps that word in and of itself is even too weak to describe what’s currently going on in Balmora.  
After the chaotic mess that was the confrontation in Caldera, the Thieves Guild is not only left with several less people – either killed or imprisoned – but in a state of alarm and suspicion. At this time, despite being before opening hours, a lot of them are gathered within South Wall, as Habasi called them here to discuss a few things regarding their future.

Despite how Jollain might have felt about the event itself, she had no other choice than to come here, especially since their leader’s message was very adamant. Of course she is worried of what will happen now that this conflict with their rivals might expand even further, but she’d be lying if she said that was her foremost concern.  
More importantly, she can’t stop thinking about Tayerise and the end of the battle. Is she safe? Did she manage to get to her brother in time? Did she escape with Camonna? Or is she trapped somewhere in a dungeon? If it’s the latter…well, Jollain might have to do something drastic that neither Habasi nor Caius would approve of.

“After that stunt they pulled on us, we can’t know for sure what Camonna might be planning”, Habasi says, while she paces back and forth from her position. The khajiit is walking in the center of several tables, while the rest of the members are sat on various chairs. Jollain is somewhere towards the rear.  
“Our only choice to counteract this potential hazard is therefore to be careful and plan ahead, so that we are ready for anything. To this end, Habasi has decided that we must station lookouts around various parts of Labor Town, to guard our territory and have escape routes available for use. In case of emergencies or miscalculations, be prepared to help any guild member in need that you find.”

One of the dunmer members raises her arm to get their leader’s attention and Habasi gestures at her.  
“You want those of us who can, to try and spy on Camonna?”

The khajiit considers it only for a second, before she shakes her head.  
“No, it is too risky. We don’t know how well-informed they are of our members and I don’t want any of you to end up in a harmful scenario.  
Remember that, even if we are fighting against Camonna, they pretty much have half of House Hlaalu in their pockets and I would prefer that we focus on securing one area, rather than the whole city. Protect each other at all costs.”

Most of the people here seem to be aware of what she’s talking about and they will do their best to not stumble into anything dangerous, but Jollain still looks troubled.  
How could this have happened? What does this fight mean for the future? When she arrived, she obviously heard of the rivalry, from what Caius told her, but what if this thing descends into a proper war? The bloodbaths that follow is not something Jollain wants to contemplate.

She has never really experienced antagonism on the same level as between the Guild and Camonna. In the Imperial City, there were quite a bit of trouble with the Imperial Watch, who used to raid their various facilities and prevent certain heists, but they never came close to what occurred in Caldera. The Watch was filled guards and therefore their foremost duty and goal was to maintain order and imprison any criminals, not to protect their territory or steal resources. Sure, they were assholes, but Camonna is of a very similar nature as the Guild and therefore knows all the tricks. They know what’s at stake and where they’re ready to go, in order to win. Death is not something they’re afraid to deliver at any point. Jollain has to think twice before she goes anywhere from now on.

Before Habasi can continue her speech, however, everyone hears how there’s a bit of commotion on the outside, followed by someone protesting rather loudly. It doesn’t take long until these actions are brought further inside, when two out of the three guards stationed by the door pull someone with them.  
“Boss”, one of them says, addressing Habasi, “we found someone snooping around outside. Thought she could escape us.”

They shove her a few steps ahead, and even though they attempt to make her fall, the dunmer keeps her balance and straightens herself. After a brief glare at the ones who pushed her, Tayerise soon turns towards the rest of the room.  
“I wasn’t ‘snooping’. My only intention was to look around, as I was waiting for someone.”

The guards scoff, but even if they say no more, they clearly don’t believe her.  
In the meantime, Habasi narrows her eyes, folds her arms, and slowly strides to this section of the bar. The gaze she offers the dunmer is skeptical.  
“And here comes Camonna. Not as many as Habasi thought they’d bring, but it is a presence, at least. Hanging around outside of our headquarters already, huh? Should have known they’d act quickly.”

Tay raises her arms defensively.  
“Wait, listen, I have not been ordered to come here by anyone at all. I-“

“So you’re snooping around at your own behest? How loyal of you”, the khajiit states with an unimpressed tone.

She’s really starting to look annoyed now, and as she clenches her fists, the guards put hands on their weapons.  
“I am _not_ snooping! All I came here to do is speak with one woman, and you already know who it is. That’s all I ask.”

Habasi’s skepticism has grown into active irritation and suspicion as she frowns.  
“And why should I let you? Not with that attitude, at least.”

Jollain looks rather unsure as she watches the whole scene, feeling the tension and the hostility aimed at her friend. She can’t sit and ignore this.  
“Habasi, please”, she says after she stands up. “She’s with me.”

“Yes, this one is quite aware, and that is what worries me. I believe you may have become blinded by your emotions to the nature of this woman. Trust me when I say it’s better to ignore her.”

Tay sighs, her shoulders slumping, as she is getting exhausted by this confrontation.  
“Look, I understand that you don’t like me, and I don’t blame you for it. You are free to mistrust me all you like, but I swear upon my own honor that I don’t seek to harm you or your gang. I only wish to have a word with Jollain.”

Habasi takes a few steady steps closer to Tay, while she still hasn’t given Jollain any glance. She lifts her hand and points at the dunmer.  
“I realize that you do, and you have been fairly smart before, but I want you to be completely aware of something. If you hurt her whatsoever…”

She doesn’t get to the actual threat part, and even if she may be about to reveal it, Tay’s response is quicker.  
“I won’t, I swear. She may be a member of your guild, and that makes it reasonable why you’d be defensive of her, but she is my friend. She is important to me and I would _never_ hurt her. I would rather suffer any pain or shame than do that to her.”

Standing further back still, Jollain is a little bit surprised by Tay’s eagerness to prove this in front of so many people, that her own cheeks get warmer in reaction to it.  
At the same time, Habasi stares sharply into Tay’s red eyes, trying to discern the truth. It is undeniable that they burn with fierceness and determination, which is as much of a proof of her genuine emotions as they can get.

With a brief sigh, Habasi turns on her heel and gestures for Jollain to proceed.  
“Fine. Go on. But be careful, alright? She may not betray you, but that does not mean there is no chance of Camonna backstabbing her, which will put you in harm’s way.”

Jollain offers her leader a small smile.  
“Don’t worry, I will.”  


* * *

  
After leaving the tense situation inside the tavern, the duo wanders away from it and heads towards some alleyways, so that they’re not in line of sight of either the guards outside or anyone else. It is still quite early in the day at this time, so most people are off to either complete or find work, which means they have some space.  
Once they get the chance, the two women embrace one another, as Jollain lets Tay hug her tightly. It seems the warrior is particularly pleased about this, based on her smile.

“It’s good to see you again”, Tay tells her quietly. “You don’t know how glad I am that you’re safe.”

Jollain returns a similar expression as she looks up.  
“Hey, right back at ya. I haven’t been able to sleep properly ever since that day. Kept wondering if something happened to you.”

“I’m relieved. After what occurred back there, I…I wasn’t sure that you’d be willing to meet with me again.”

Arching one of her eyebrows skeptically, Jollain takes Tay’s hand.  
“What? Why not?”

Tay lowers her gaze to the ground.  
“Well, erm, the situation we were in was very…hostile. I had to fight some of your guild members. I didn’t kill anyone, but…”

Jollain sighs and shakes her head.  
“You thought I’d be scared of you? C’mon, you know me better than that by now and what happened was definitely not your fault. Neither of us wanted to be in that shit.  
That said, the whole scenario was fucking crazy.”

At least here, she doesn’t get any protests from Tay, who exhales through her nose.  
“Definitely. I kept trying to get eyes on you, hoping that no one would hurt you.  
Are you…okay?”

Folding her arms and stepping somewhat to the side, Jollain leans back against a nearby house wall, but still remains very close to her friend.  
“I am, for the most part. Obviously kinda rattled after what we went through, but I’ll survive.”  
Turning her gaze up, she searches Tay’s eyes.  
“And you?”

“Same, mostly. I avoided getting any severe injuries, only a few shallow ones. Your people are tough, but I had the upper hand.”  
She doesn’t manage to hold this notion for very long, and drifts off to the side again. There’s something troubled surging all over her face.  
“I uh…I noticed that you encountered Areval during the battle”, she reveals after some hesitation.

Oh, of course. What else would she come here to talk about?  
Jollain raises a hand, corrects her hair and tries to clear her throat.  
“Yeah, I did. I…wasn’t aware that he was your brother.”

“Mm, I know. I mean, I never told you and that was intentional. But I also never wanted for this to be your first meeting, nor that he would be so angry.”

Even if she knows that Tay respects and cares for her family, Jollain still doesn’t quite like the term used for his reaction, which is why she scowls.  
“Tay, you know he wasn’t exactly nice to me, right? He attacked me on sight.”

She feels bad once she notices Tay’s reaction, as the dunmer looks immensely guilty and bites her own lip. But what else can she say? It’s not like this act can be ignored.  
“…I know.”  
Struggling against her own insecurity, Tay forces herself to face her friend.  
“I apologize, Jollain. My brother’s actions were wrong and…completely unjustified. On his behalf, I am sorry.  
I swear that I was not aware of what would happen when he saw you for the first time, nor that you would be there. I mean, I’ve sort of known how he feels about other people, but I never planned this. Please, forgive me.”

After watching Tay for a second or two, seeing how the dunmer seems to be feeling very bad at this time, Jollain raises her hand and captures one of Tay’s, squeezing it gently.  
“Hey, c’mon, I believe you. You’ve never lied to me before and I don’t think you’d start here. When I saw your face on the battlefield, I know that we were both equally shocked.  
Besides, it’s not like you fought me or made him do it. He’s responsible for his own actions.”

That seems to take some of the load off Tay’s chest, who squeezes somewhat in return and strokes the back of Jollain’s hand with her thumb.  
“I appreciate that, but I still had to say it. You deserved better.  
Unfortunately, this is not the end of my problems. That fight had certain consequences.”

Ah, and here it comes.  
“Uh, consequences?”

Tay diverts her eyes from Jollain’s face, watching their hands interact instead, trying to take strength from it.  
“When I got to my brother, I lifted him up and told him we had to get out of there, to flee with the rest of the squad, but he can be very…stubborn, and way too eager to fight. He ignored me, told me to flee while he tried to help other Camonna members. He ended up in too much trouble and was arrested.”

Less than ideal and Jollain can sense the anxiety rising, like boiling water.  
“Arrested? By who?”

“The Imperial Legion.”

It’s not like she needed to hear it, as she already knew what the answer would be, but getting confirmation is at least something. With a heavy sigh, she raises her hand and rubs her forehead.  
“…shit.”

“Yeah.”  
When Tayerise shakes her head, it’s not completely certain what feeling is the most evident on her – worry or disappointment.  
“I’m sure neither of us really wanted this, but after what he did, it was unavoidable. The Legion took him and a bunch of others away, into Fort Moonmoth. They’re trapped somewhere in the dungeons below.”

The uncertainty that swirls in her mind at this piece of news has several reasons. Sure, she feels for Tay, that she’s worried about her brother, but even more than that, Jollain is doubtful how her own affiliation to the Legion will play into this. This kind of conflict is almost worse than with Camonna, because the connection she has with Asta is much closer to her actual purpose and the reason she might get into serious trouble.

“Yeah, okay, that’s bad, but why did you bring this to me?”

Meeting her friend’s gaze once more, Tay’s eyes start to gain a certain pleading aspect.  
“Because I have to get Areval out of there, no matter the cost, and I am ready to do anything. But…I might need some help.”

“Help? You wanna break him out of there?”

Tay shrugs and looks somewhat lost.  
“I don't know, I haven’t decided yet, but I want to do something. He has to get out of there, that’s the only thing I’m focused on right now.”

Despite caring a lot for Tay and always wanting to defend her, this is starting to push Jollain’s limits. She folds her arms skeptically.  
“But...Tay, he killed some of our people, in an attack that _he_ started.”

“I know…I know that, but Areval, he…he is my brother, Jollain. He is my family, and I have to take care of him.”  
Part of why she is lost is likely not just because of what she can do, but the reasons for doing it. In some ways, she’s enabling his behavior, which Jollain can’t approve of. Tay probably has some similar feelings.  
“If this was with House Hlaalu, I could’ve just had Camonna negotiate on his behalf, and we could find some way to release him in return for favors, but this is an entirely different situation, with another authority. There’s just no way that the Legion would listen to someone like me, especially after how hostile Camonna has been towards them.”

It’s getting harder to watch and listen to Tay, because the dunmer is being very adamant and Jollain’s heart is opening up, perhaps too much. They’re still talking about someone who was and probably is very violent.  
“Yeah, I know, but I’m not sure that any of ‘em deserves leniency. Not after what they did.”

Tay looks saddened by Jollain’s words, but pushes onwards, hoping to convince her regardless. She tries to take both of the bosmer’s hands and gaze into her eyes. For now, Jollain lets her do it.  
“Listen, I know you’re angry, hurt, perhaps even scared of him, and I don’t blame you, as you have every reason to be. However, this isn’t about him.  
This is my family, as dysfunctional and erratic as it may be. I care for him, no matter how stupid he is. I want to do this, to rescue him somehow, but I can’t do it alone. You are one of those people I trust the most on this entire island, my only real friend and I can think of no one else to turn to. It would mean everything to me if you helped.”

Once more, Jollain sighs, getting really annoyed of how she’s giving in.  
“Tay…”

“ _Please_ , Jollain. Perhaps you don’t want to, and I completely understand why, but I beg of you…give him a chance. I can’t let him rot in there, or be sent off to some workcamp for years. My family would be distraught.  
If you do this, I swear that I will owe you everything. No matter what you ask of me, I shall do it.”

As she watches the dunmer and how Tay is almost on the verge of getting on her knees to plead, Jollain senses how her own emotions are both fierce and unruly. What kind of shitstorm is it that she has ended up in? This is such a mess.  
She’s a Blade - a spy - and she’s supposed to be neutral, to not getting involved too much in personal affairs. Even more than that, she should never actively be seen with the Legion, other than when it’s absolutely necessary for various messages. To do something like this is probably not what Caius had in mind.  
But then again, in this scenario, if it’s for Tay, can she really deny that she has allies? What else can she do? Breaking into Moonmoth is not only impossible, but also immensely stupid.

She practically groans before she says anything else.  
“Ugh. I mean, do you even have a plan for how we would do this?”

Tay opens her mouth, but she hesitates for several moments.  
“Well…I uh, I was hoping we could think of something together.”

“What about other allies? Areval’s friends or something?”

“Erm, not really. Most of his closest friends were also imprisoned. That’s why he went back for them.  
And, well, you already know that I have none except you.”

She shouldn’t be doing this. If Caius finds out, he’s not only going to be pissed off, he might even punish her somehow, and fiercely as well. He would scold her for getting involved, for being unprofessional…but how can she ignore it at all? Who actually gives a crap about following every stupid regulation?  
“I might have one already, actually.”

Tay widens her eyes and blinks.  
“You do?”

“Yeah uh, sort of. I’m…associated with the commander of the fort.”

If Tay had been shocked before, that now increases tenfold.  
“What? How?”

“It’s complicated and nothing I can explain right now. If we can get there, though, I might be able to talk to her. Maybe.”

Tay seems to have a hard time deciding whether she’s skeptical or elated, but eventually ends up simply shrugging.  
“I’m not sure how I feel about that, or what to say, but if you can get my brother out of prison, I don’t care.”

“Once we get there, I’ll see what we can do.  
Before we go, though, you have to promise me to never tell anyone of this. I mean it, this is serious fucking stuff.”

Watching her friend’s expression and how solemn it gets, Tay nods sharply and tries to mirror it. If anything, she is always ready to do what it takes. She raises one of her hands, closes her fist and puts it on her own chest.  
“I swear, I won’t reveal whatever it is that you aim to do. In the name of the Tribunal, I will take anything you show me to my grave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, this is a bad idea, but since when has Jollain ever made the correct decisions?_


	22. Sacrifice serenity

Fort Moonmoth. Jollain has been here a lot in the last several months and although she will probably never get fully used to working with the Imperial Legion, she is at least glad that she has some allies and that the people here take much less time to let her inside than they did to begin with.  
The first time she approached the gates, the guards were very skeptical, mostly due to the fact that she doesn’t really look like a soldier, nor one that belongs in a fort. Nowadays, the procedure is practically painless.

As they step through the entrance in record time, Tayerise turns towards her companion with surprise in her eyes.  
“That was…very easy. I don’t know why I thought it would be tougher, but I was sure that they’d stop you.”

That Tay makes a big deal out of this, doesn’t make it any easier for Jollain’s hesitation.  
“I told you, I know the commander of this place. Sort of.”

Once they enter the courtyard, Jollain already knows where they need to go, which is why she turns and walks directly for the right door. Tay watches her silently for a few seconds before she chooses to voice her concerns.  
“I know, but…you never told me how.”

While Jollain is certainly fine with helping Tay take care of her family, handing out all of her secrets is another matter. This is why she sighs.  
“Look, it’s…like I said, complicated. I can’t explain everything. Just trust me in this, okay?”

Still having skepticism and uncertainty all over her face, Tay unfortunately doesn’t have much of a choice.  
“Right, if you say so.”

They make their way past the courtyard, up into the core of the buildings within and then towards a particular office. When they’re not too far from the correct door, one that is currently closed, Jollain turns around and motions with her hand for Tay to stop.  
“Okay, this is it. I’m gonna go in there and talk to her alone. It’s for the best if you wait out here in the meantime, so that I can…you know, soften her up. Be careful and try not to draw any attention.”

Tay nods slowly and folds her arms. She’s wearing her armor, although the weapon had to be temporarily locked away by the guards, something she felt uncomfortable with.  
“Alright. If you need my help, just call for me.”

Jollain snorts amusedly.  
“Help? I know you’re tough, but I doubt there’s anything you can say to convince her, cutie. Just stay patient, okay?”

Without another word, she turns on her heel and knocks on the door. Asta’s voice can be heard from within.  
“Come in.”  
When the bosmer actually opens it and walks inside, the Legate glances up from the report she was writing, to widen her eyes.  
“…Jollain? What are you doing here? Is it Caius again? Another message? He makes you run too many of those, to be honest.”

Jollain has to actively prevent herself from flinching, as she hadn’t closed the door yet, something she does now. Tay definitely doesn’t need to hear that name, but it’s too late.  
“Uh…no. I’m here for another reason.”

Asta was just about to rise from her seat, but goes back down again, gaining a somewhat doubtful look in her eyes.  
“Another reason? What would that be?”  
She puts her hands together and rests her elbows on the desk.  
“Is this about what happened in Caldera? There was a lot of crap to deal with over there, thanks to your two groups squabbling.”

Annoyance practically oozes out from both her tone and expression, and who can blame her? Jollain didn’t really like it either.  
“Yeah, erm, I should…probably apologize for that. At least because you had to deal with me. It was quite a mess.  
I do stick by my statement, though, that it wasn’t exactly my fault.”

The Legate sighs and shrugs, at least having to agree with this sentiment.  
“Fine. But can you at least tell your guild to be more careful in the future? I can’t handle Camonna every damn time they want to have a brawl with your group on the streets.”

Jollain clears her throat, and even if she really tries not to, she still looks uncomfortable.  
“Uh, yeah, about that...”  
She strides closer to the desk and leans somewhat against it, while doing her very best to give the soldier her sweetest face.  
“I actually came to talk to you about one of the prisoners you took from the battle.”

She already knows that attempts at manipulation of this kind doesn’t really work on Asta, as she is a very practical woman. If Jollain’s intel is correct, she even shrugs off bribes, as she is very strict about doing her job and not tainting the Svalen name. That’s likely why the nord frowns and sighs now, as if she knew this was coming.  
“Jollain, I can’t release any of your guild members, you already know this. I let you go back in Caldera, because it’s a different story with you.”

“Well, then you should be kinda glad, because I’m not asking you to release anyone from the Guild.  
I, uh…I’m actually here because I want you to let out a Camonna prisoner.”

Asta is silent for several moments, simply staring at her. It’s not a look of anger or mistrust or anything like that, just pure shock. She is not very expressive.  
“…hold on, I think I just misheard. You want me to release a _Camonna prisoner_? As in, a member of Camonna Tong that we arrested?”

“That’s correct.”

“…you’re joking, right?”

Jollain folds her arms, doing her best to look serious.  
“Not today.”

“You seriously came all the way here to tell me that you want to free someone from Camonna? Your enemies?”

The bosmer diverts her eyes elsewhere.  
“Well…that’s debatable.”

Asta frowns and leans closer to her over the desk, staring intently at Jollain’s eyes, even though the bosmer refuses to meet them.  
“They tried to wage war on your group back in Caldera, Jollain. I know who started that fight.”

Jollain exhales, her shoulders slumping, and she immediately starts to look really tired. These are just the same things that she pointed out to herself. Gotta remember that she’s doing this for someone else.  
“I know, I know! Normally, I’d tell you to let those assholes rot in their cells, but these are…special circumstances.”

“And what ‘special circumstances’ would those be?”

“I…it’s hard to talk about them. Can’t you just help me out? It’s important.”

Even if Asta tries to continue staring at her, hoping that Jollain will relent, that surrender doesn’t occur. Instead, the Legate sighs and leans back in her chair.  
“I need a reason, Jollain. Without it, I can’t do anything.”

Jollain furrows her brow, starting to look frustrated. She’s trying to think of some excuse, but can’t come up with anything good.  
“I…I can’t really talk about it either. It has to do with…certain contacts, though.”

“What contacts?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s a bit too…personal.”

“Not good enough. If it’s too personal for you to tell me, then that’s too bad. I won’t be releasing prisoners simply because you come here and ask me nicely, no matter who you are or what you’ve done for us. That’s not how this works.”

While Jollain attempts to think of a good reason and fight her own doubts about this endeavor at the same time, the door suddenly slides open. It’s Tay, of course, who apparently isn’t going to listen to Jollain’s instructions.  
“Please, give us a chance.”

Jollain shuts her eyes.  
“…ah, shit.”

Asta looks both surprised and angry, before she pushes her chair back, stands up and points at the dunmer.  
“And who in Oblivion are you?”

“Uh, Legate, please don’t overreact.”

The nord glares at Tay for several moments, before she gives Jollain a stern glance as well.  
“Overreact? Did you invite her here?”

“Well…yeah.”

Tay puts a hand to her chest and bows her head respectfully.  
“Legate, sera, my name is Tayerise. I work for Camonna Tong.”

Jollain tilt her head back and raises her arms in frustration.  
“Aw, Tay, c’mon!”

Asta’s scowl suddenly grows even deeper and she puts a hand down hard on her desk.  
“…you brought Camonna right into my fort?!”

The noise makes Jollain twitch, as she suddenly becomes very aware why Asta is the commanding officer of this place. She takes a step back and raises her arms defensively.  
“Please, Legate, just calm down, okay? It’s…it’s not as bad as it looks. Or sounds.”

Asta steps away from the desk and slowly approaches the much shorter woman, her glare being so fierce that Jollain thinks that fire will erupt from them.  
“Not as bad as you bringing a criminal straight into an imperial outpost, you mean?”

“Well…I mean, yeah, we are here, but she’s not a criminal! Well, uh, not any worse than me, anyway.  
Tay is my friend and I trust her.”

Giving herself a second to take that in, Asta stares at Jollain, glances over at Tay for an equal number of seconds, before going back to the bosmer.  
“You trust a Camonna thug? Really?”

“Yes, I do. She’s…she’s more than that damn gang. Tay is a good person.  
She has helped me with a bunch of stuff, you know. Helped out with missions, information, even protected me in certain cases. She has been by my side for months now and she’s one of the good guys.”

The sheer conviction that she speaks these words with does have a certain impact on Asta, even if she is still skeptical.  
“That remains to be seen.”  
She swiftly shifts her attention around to the dunmer again.  
“You had something to say? Spit it out.”

Tay clears her throat and instinctively straightens her back at the rather commanding tone.  
“Yes, sera.  
I, uh, I don’t really know what the connection is between you two, but as for the prisoner that we want to release – Areval – he…he is my brother.”

Asta’s expression doesn’t soften a lot, but there is still a noticeable change, an understanding.  
“…ah. I see.”

“I realize that he’s a criminal, Legate, and that what he did was wrong, but he’s also my family. If he remains in there, Camonna will simply let him rot and leave our family devastated. I can’t let that happen to one of mine, to my own flesh and blood.”

Staring at the dunmer with less hostility now, Asta sighs and appears contemplative.  
“That is…an unfortunate turn of events, but it doesn’t change anything. I can’t make it happen, for a whole load of reasons. There would be too many problems, not to mention the fact that none of the ones from Camonna that we arrested are particularly safe releases. They’re all volatile.”

Tay takes a step closer, lowering her head again.  
“Please, Legate, I beg you, be merciful. I promise that I will pay you back somehow.”

Asta crosses her arms and gazes at the dunmer skeptically.  
“I doubt that. I’m sorry, Tayerise, I understand that your situation is tough, but there is nothing you have that I want.”

Jollain looks at her friend, seeing how miserable Tay is growing and she exhales through her nose, knowing she can’t leave it like this.  
“Aw, c’mon Asta, please. Can’t we work something out? Helping Tay would…mean a lot to me. It could mean a lot for the future too.”

“You mean any uncertain future, where these people might be out on the streets hurting others again? I can’t do it, Jollain, even for you.”

Seeing no other alternative, Jollain thinks of something desperate, the first idea that comes to mind.  
“How about…if I owe you a favor? I’ll do anything, Legate.”

Asta arches one of her eyebrows skeptically.  
“What? A favor?”

Jollain nods sharply.  
“A favor. You want something difficult done, something illegal, a job you can’t send any of your soldiers to do? You know I’m always an option and my skills are very flexible. If you release Areval, I’ll owe you. Anything you want.”

Her resistance towards this offer slowly seems to wither, which gives the elves hope. Asta raises a hand to stroke her chin in thought.  
“Hmm…I hadn’t thought of that. A favor like that would be…I don’t know.”

“Look, I know it’s not a perfect situation, and you can get into a lot of trouble, but think about what you might solve with me as one of your operatives. You know I’m capable of a lot of stuff; you’ve seen it yourself. Having someone like me could be very useful.  
In return, all you have to do is release one little prisoner. I mean, how will that even hurt your record? You’re a decorated officer, after all.”

Asta frowns at Jollain, obviously not liking that Jollain is trying to manipulate her. But, at the same time…  
She glances between the two women, before she sighs, shuts her eyes and shakes her head.  
“Talos have mercy on me…this is such a bad idea.”  
Taking a deep breath, she opens them again and nods.  
“Fine, okay, I agree to your terms.” These words make both of them smile, but Asta isn’t done, which she shows by pointing at them one at a time.  
“ _However_ , you will _both_ owe me a favor. It will be whatever I want, whenever I want it. Is that clear?”

Jollain is suddenly more unsure, as she didn’t want to drag Tay into it, but the dunmer simply nods rather eagerly.  
“We understand, Legate, and we accept the deal. If it means rescuing my brother from being damned in here, I don’t care.  


* * *

  
After agreeing about what needs to be done, the three women proceeds together down to the dungeon with the prison cells, in the section where the Camonna members are being held. To Jollain’s slight surprise, this area doesn’t look all too bad, certainly not as dirty, dark and dismal as the jail back in the Imperial City. She doesn’t know if it’s due to more amount of drakes being thrown at them, or if it simply has something to do with the Legate’s view of how to handle prisoners.

Either way, after asking one of the prison guards stationed here, they approach the correct cell, a rather small one, where they find a male dunmer sitting on a bed at the floor. Compared to his previous appearance, he isn’t in armor, but some simple beige clothes. He hasn’t been injured or starved, but he does look somewhat defeated, probably thinking about what it will mean to spend all this time in an imperial cell. Fortunately, that’s when he spots shadows outside and a familiar voice speaking to him.

“Arry?”

Areval blinks and looks up, his eyes widened in shock.  
“What the…Tay? Is that you?”

The taller woman smiles at him and nods.  
“It’s me.”

He stands up and approaches the iron bar door.  
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“We’ll get to that. I'm glad you're alive. How are you feeling?”

Areval lowers his gaze, folds his arms and snorts, appearing somewhat glum.  
“It stinks in here, the food isn’t particularly good, and the humans are annoying.”

“Arry…”

He shakes these thoughts off and refocuses on his sister.  
“But I’m glad to see you, Tay. You didn’t break in here, did you? How did you arrange this? Did you speak to the boss or some-“  
Unfortunately, that’s when someone else steps into view and his intrigued appearance turns into a sharp frown instead as he points at a familiar bosmer.  
“What is _she_ doing here?”

Jollain smirks and crosses her arms confidently.  
“Hello there, tough guy. As happy to see me as you were last time. Guess I figured it would be the same.  
‘Arry’, huh? Cute.”

Areval’s annoyance intensifies, but he tries to gaze at his sister instead.  
“Why the fuck did you bring this miserable wretch?”

Feeling rather saddened about his reaction, Tay sighs.  
“Please, be kind to her. If it was not for Jollain, this wouldn’t be happening. She was the one who managed to get you out.”

In return, he looks very skeptical, practically confused.  
“What? This little treehugger got me out of an imperial prison? Ludicrous.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe us”, Jollain tells him. “It’s the truth.”

“Why? Why would you care?”

Jollain gives him a mocking smirk.  
“Because I’m such a nice lady, of course, why else?”

The imperial jailor asks them to step aside and then unlocks the cell. Areval gives them all a tentative sweep, before he pushes them away and starts to stroll towards the exit. Not running, just very determinedly leaving them behind, forcing the duo to follow him.  
Tay gives Jollain a hesitant gaze and then sighs.  
“Can’t you at least show her some gratitude? She helped you.”

“Piss off”, he tells her.

“Arry…she rescued you from jail, from a potential few years of being locked up in here. She did this despite the fight you two had in Caldera.”

Areval throws a scowl over his shoulder.  
“And I should just kneel and beg her to forgive me, is that it? Fuck no.”

Jollain rolls her eyes, not particularly surprised by this reaction.  
“Well, this was as ‘pleasant’ as I had anticipated.”

Tay appears apologetic in return.  
“I’m sorry for this, Jollain, I really am. He’s better than this, I know it.”

“Shut up, Tay!”, Areval tells her without looking at either. “Don’t apologize to that little n’wah. We’re not going to be sorry to someone like her, a goddamned thief.”

Jollain snorts.  
“Hah, okay. And your type is better, is it?”

Lowering her voice so that her brother doesn’t hear, Tay leans somewhat closer.  
“I will make this up to you, I swear. I already owe you everything, but…you deserve something extra for enduring this type of treatment.”

The bosmer offers her a small smile and gently pats her arm.  
“Hey, it’s okay. I never expected a ‘thank you’ anyway. He’s not the type.”

As they finally get to the exit of the prison area, Asta is there waiting for them all. She has her arms folded and frowns skeptically at Areval when he comes walking. She gives the same expression to the two women.  
“I have arranged for the prisoner to receive some of his possessions. What he’s not getting, however, is his weapons.”  
She turns specifically to Areval for this, looking right into his scarlet eyes.  
“They have been confiscated and seized permanently. Due to his record, we cannot return them.”

Areval gives her an equally fierce glare in return, but he remains mostly calm.  
“You can’t do that.”

“On the contrary, I definitely can. I have full jurisdiction under Imperial Law when it comes to the possession of weaponry across the West Gash region and I do not want to see such things in your hands. I will not allow it.”

He continues to frown at her, clenching his hands somewhat, but Tay puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.  
“Please, remain calm. We can…fix something for you later”, she whispers.

Despite a certain wish to do his best to show this human what he’s capable of, he breathes out in defeat and shrugs.  
“There’s no point in fighting a Legionnaire. I won’t oppose your decision.”

Asta inclines her head.  
“Good. At least you’re not completely stupid.”  
She gestures towards a box further away, which he is allowed to take. Areval disappears into a room for a few minutes, where he puts on his armor and gear once more. When he returns to the corridor, Asta addresses him one last time.  
“From now on, I don’t want to see any more actions like this from you. If I have to arrest you again, the next punishment will be worse. I will not be merciful a second time, no matter how much your sister begs it of me. Remember that.”

Areval sneers at her.  
“Of course, good Legate, you’ll never spot me again.”

He snatches the last of his items from the area and strolls out of the room.  
Tay looks at Asta, hesitant once more.  
“I apologize, sera. My brother is…difficult.”

Asta waves dismissively.  
“I know his type and I’m not afraid of his attitude. Go, make sure you keep your eyes on him, so that he actually stays out of trouble.”

Tay bows her head respectfully and strolls out the door. Jollain lingers for a few moments and shrugs.  
“Well, that went better than I expected at least.”  
She displays an amused smile.  
“Thanks for the help again, mom.”

Closing her eyes, Asta raises a hand to her face, in order to rub her forehead.  
“…stop calling me that. Just get out of here.”


	23. Ashen truths

As many who are familiar with her now should know, Jollain is not much for early mornings. She never has been and when she was a little younger, she was certain she never would be. In fact, she would still claim that it’s not exactly her favorite section of the day, but she’s getting used to rising at such hours, as long as she can have tea. That’s pretty much her lifeline nowadays, which was a concept she never expected she’d have to embrace. It helps that the stuff they make here is fairly tasty. She used to like tea in the past as well, but never to this extent.

The purpose for awakening around this time is pretty simple and yet very important. Tayerise is coming over, as the dunmer was apparently free when Jollain asked. Or maybe Tay just couldn’t resist a request from her favorite outlander?  
Either way, when Jollain hears the knock on the door, she smiles and rises eagerly, knowing that it can be no one else at this time. As she swings the door open, she immediately spreads her arms and hugs the other woman.

Tay seems to have anticipated this act, which is why she chuckles briefly and accepts the embrace. Who knows, maybe she was even longing for it? Jollain can’t ignore the feelings that Tay has been displaying, the gestures she has been showing. Perhaps it would be wise to…  
No. Not now. There are certain events that needs to be cleared up, truths that must be discovered and unfolded. Perhaps it’s not fair, as she holds a veil above a lot of her own, but that’s how it must be. At least for now.

“Good morning, cutie. No problems with being punctual, huh?”, Jollain says while she looks up at her friend.

The smile Tay returns is almost glowing, due to how elated she becomes by holding onto the bosmer.  
“Compared to you, I’m actually pretty decent with mornings.”

“Tsk. Are you saying it’s impossible for me to handle them? Because it’s not.”

“Is that so? Last time I was here at this hour, you practically growled at me.”

“…not true! I was just…grumbling.”

Tay expression turns into a small smirk.  
“And what underlying reason would that sound have had?”

Jollain rolls her eyes and playfully slaps Tay’s arm.  
“…shut up! Are you gonna come in for breakfast or what?”

“Sure, as long as you don’t intend to growl.”

“Well, if you continue with that snark, I might actually go for a nibble instead”, she says and briefly snaps her teeth in Tay’s direction, but not very close.

Tay snickers, but her smile starts to look a bit shy shortly after.  
“I…think I could handle that.”

The response gets a glint running through Jollain’s eyes, but she holds back on any further insinuations for now. She could probably deal with innuendo all day, as it makes Tay become very adorable, but that’s not the state she wants to be in right now. She can’t.  
“Don’t have much, but it’ll be a sandwich and a cup of tea.”

“Sounds good. It’s a nice way to start the day, so I’m always up for it.”

Jollain is sure that Tay does it more for the company than the food, but that’s fine with her. As Tay closes the door behind her, she only has to take off her jacket and a scarf, as she is not wearing the usual armor.  
Once they approach the table and sit down together, Jollain gestures at the small plates she has placed on the table, having rye bread, cheese, vegetables, a few guar meat slices and some butter. Thankfully, this isn’t usually all too expensive in Balmora. At least not with Jollain’s salary.

“How’s your brother doing?”, she asks, while she allows Tay to go first and pours up some hot water for them both. “Is he alright?”

That makes Tay appear somewhat hesitant at first, which isn’t surprising. There’s no doubt that it’s a difficult topic.  
“I…yes, he’s fine. Although, he’s still kinda sore and somewhat pissed that he had to go through imprisonment.”  
She fidgets a little, which slows her progress with the sandwich.  
“He was…also quite mad that I asked you to help.”

“Heh. Ungrateful little brat, huh?”, she says, although she’s aware that Areval isn’t exactly young. In fact, Jollain doesn’t know his exact age, so she’s not sure which of them would be older. Probably doesn’t matter.

Tay sighs.  
“I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry, Jollain. His behavior was…unacceptable.”

After she’s done with the tea, Jollain puts the small kettle down, before placing one of her hands on top of the dunmer’s closest.  
“Hey, stop it. I’m not angry at you and you shouldn’t take the fall for him. It has nothing to do with what you did. I mean, he probably won’t take responsibility, but that’s not your fault just for being related. This shit is up to Areval and I’ll wait for him to say something.”

After she has finally prepared her food, Tay looks at it for a few moments, before she shakes her head. Her eyes seem like they’re far away from here.  
“You’re right, of course, but…I feel like I have to say it, because someone should. You deserve better and since he won’t say anything, I’ll step in and do it for him.”

Jollain opens her mouth and gets ready to protest this notion, but halts herself before she gets that far.  
“You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to argue with you. That’s not why I called you here and I don’t want to push this in the wrong direction right now.  
I’m wondering, though, after all that happened in Caldera, does he expect you to stay with Camonna and continue your work like nothing ever happened?”

Tay looks reluctant to respond, but she can’t really stay quiet or lie about this. She shrugs in a somewhat defeated fashion.  
“Well, yes, probably. It’s been over a week now and I already have. What other choice is there? My place is with them, Jollain. It’s the only work I can do properly. Besides, someone has to look out for him, so he doesn’t do anything foolish.”

Jollain views her friend in silence at first, knowing that she just admitted there would be no arguing, but can she really ignore this?  
She starts to narrow her eyes.  
“I don’t really agree. Look at what almost happened out there when we were forced into a situation neither of us wanted. We got trapped in a fight between our two groups and came this close to potentially having to hurt each other.”

During the past week, they’ve met a few times and touched upon the subject once or twice, but nothing major. Jollain is not about to give up on it, though, since this is serious stuff.  
Tay herself keeps her eyes lowered, her shoulders slumped in a guilty manner. The emotion is likely due to the fact that she won’t do anything to stop it.  
“I…I know, but…”

“But what, Tay? What if this happens again? What if Camonna prepares an even worse ambush on my Guild next time? What are we gonna do at that point?”

“Well…that might happen, but isn’t your Guild just as likely to do the same?”

Jollain sighs, not liking the idea of throwing the blame around. That gets them nowhere.  
“That’s my point! Even if I find it unlikely, it’s just as bad no matter who starts it. Either way, one of us would get hurt.”

Tay places her hand at the edge of her plate, slowly moving it around without being able to take what’s on it. Her appetite is gradually decreasing.  
“What do you want me to do?”

“You know what I want, Tay. You have to see by now that leaving Camonna is the only way.  
I know that the Thieves Guild isn’t exactly great, but at least they don’t discriminate against all other races. Anyone can join us, and you can’t say the same about Camonna. You know it’d be lying.”

There’s a heavy sigh from the dunmer as she rests her elbows on the table, running a hand up to her hair. She looks down at the plate once more, not being able to keep Jollain’s gaze, despite how much the bosmer stares. She’s torn and wants to be able to do several things at once, even if they contradict one another.  
“You have asked me this before, but what should I do? Where will I go if I leave them? I know nothing else. I’m not a priest, nor a craftsman in any way. I could do manual labor, but that pays horribly. Camonna is a much better choice.”

“What about the Fighters Guild?”

Tay momentarily turns her eyes towards her friend, but the look of half-pleading and half-demanding is too much for her, which is why she diverts herself again.  
“I…you know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because I can’t.”

Jollain frowns and has to shut her lips tightly, while clenching her hands. This is a response she has gotten more than once and while she tries to hold her frustration back, she is getting very tired of constantly not knowing the truth.  
“That’s not an answer.”

“…it’s all I have.”

“ _No”_ , she says with much more determination than before. “No, Tay. This is getting serious now, like, really bad. We can’t keep ignoring this any longer.”  
The dunmer refuses to share her gaze, which annoys Jollain. She decides to reach out and grab Tay’s arm, squeezing it.  
“Tay, look at me.” Reluctantly and very gradually, her friend complies with her request. “How much longer will we have to fear for each other’s safety? How far will this have to go until you realize how bad it’s getting? Will I have to die before you understand how shitty our situation is?”

Tay gasps quietly and almost shivers at the words chosen. She reaches out to gently grasp one of the bosmer’s hands.  
“Jollain, please…don’t say that.”

Jollain exhales through her nose.  
“I’m not saying I want it to happen, but I’m just being realistic.”  
Trying to soften her approach and go into a gentler attitude, she turns her hand around, so that they can entwine their fingers, rubbing a thumb at the back of Tay’s hand.  
“Tay, do you trust me?”, she asks in a calm tone.

The warrior watches her silently for a few moments, before she inclines her head.  
“Of course I do. Why would you even ask?”

“Because no matter how bad it gets, you refuse to give me the details of why you’re stuck with those assholes, or why you’re forced to serve killers like them. They’re not just thieves, they’re…thugs. They’re a vicious gang. They keep slaves and attack anyone who opposes them.”

Tay breaks the gaze, watching the table again.  
“I know…but it’s personal.”

“You’ve told me that before. Is it so personal that you can’t tell a friend? In the past, you’ve mentioned that I’m practically the only one you have, and I often feel the same about you. Even so, you won’t tell me why you have to do all of these things or why you can’t go anywhere else. This is why I wonder if you really trust me.”  
She takes a brief pause to breathe out and tries to settle down the disappointment that comes over her. She does not want to get angry again.  
“I gave you drakes after what I did to hurt you the first time, months ago now. I’ve invited you into my home, several times over. I helped save your brother from prison. Despite what you’ve told me before or how difficult it is for you, I would like to know why in Oblivion you stay with Camonna after all the shit they do.”

Every word, every argument, every angle she uses appears to affect Tay and the hesitation upon the dunmer now is not out of wishing to hide more of the truth, but out of fear and guilt. She stays silent, even though she does her very best to try something else.  
Eventually, she does something foolish, which she knows is stupid. She retracts her hand and stands up. She considers what to do, how she should act here, but every instinct in her body tells her to head for the exit, which is exactly what she does. Unfortunately, she doesn’t get far.

“Leave through that door, and you’ll never be allowed to come back”, Jollain tells her in a sharp tone.

Tay has frozen now, her grasp being around the handle of the door, but she doesn’t dare to go the whole way. Apparently, Jollain managed to offer exactly the right words, the ones which showed that there’s now no other way than to confront it.  
Tay is in a mental crossroads, a place where she will have to decide what she treasures more – is her secrets and personal details more important to preserve or is it honesty and affection for Jollain? There’s no longer any potential to have both, to keep a balance between them, because Jollain has showed that she won’t tolerate it.

It takes a short while, what feels like an hour but likely isn’t more than half a minute, until Tay turns around and rests her back against the door.  
“It’s…it’s my father. He would never let me.”

Jollain is still on the chair, but shifts around to face Tay, seeing her dejected state.  
“Wouldn’t let you do what?”

“Join an imperial guild or group of any kind.”

That…sounds both confusing and somewhat absurd to Jollain.  
“What? Why would that matter? You’re a grown woman, Tay. Shouldn’t you do whatever you want?”

Tay exhales in a resigned manner.  
“It doesn’t work like that. I…I live with my family for the time being. I can’t oppose their wishes.”

“Uh, okay. Just move out then? You’ll be free from those obligations.”

She makes it sound so easy, probably too easy for Tay, based on her expression. The dunmer tries her best to face her friend.  
“You…you don’t understand. I can’t.”  
She tries to straighten herself against the surface of the door, burying her face in her hands.  
“I know you deserve the truth, but this is…so hard. I have never spoken to anyone about this. Ever.”

Realizing how tough it must be for her, Jollain offers a sympathetic gaze and stands up to close the distance between them. When she is right in front of her friend, Jollain takes both hands and wraps her fingers around them tenderly.  
“Look, I know you don’t want to do this, but you have to trust me. Please. I want to know why you have to risk your life all the damn time. What’s stopping you from going your own path?”

Tay views the woman in front of her, feeling not just the affection in between them, but the care and understanding emanating from Jollain. She wants to embrace it, wants to throw herself right into those arms and damn the consequences – a prospect she has been attempting to accept since the beginning – but the constant voices in the back of her mind tells her she can’t have it, that she can’t ignore her responsibilities.  
But why? Why would her responsibilities have to come in the way of her choices? What if there is a better path?

Another sigh and Tay pushes herself into a standing position.  
“You’re right.”

Jollain snorts amusedly.  
“Thanks for finally admitting it.”

“I…I want to show you something. It will help you understand more.”

“Alright, go ahead.”

Letting go of her hands, Tay slowly turns around, showing her back. Jollain isn’t sure exactly what’s going on, until she notes how the dunmer begins to pull up her shirt. Usually, she’s not the bashful one, but as an entire section of the warrior’s strong and bare body is slowly being displayed for her, Jollain feels how a blush overwhelms her. It’s not just the back itself, but the muscles around the sides, her scars, the curves and shapes of her sturdy body. Jollain has to restrain herself as to not touch it, because she really gets the urge to and-  
…wait, is that…?

“Is that a tattoo?”, Jollain asks. It’s hard to see exactly what it is, but she can see an elongated symbol, depicting two crescent shapes at each side, with one long line in between them. Upon this line, there are five shorter ones. What is it supposed to portray? A skeleton? An insect? A weapon?

Tay clears her throat and speaks a bit quieter than she intended to.  
“Y-yes.”

“That’s…that’s kinda interesting.” And hot. “What is it?”

“It’s the symbol of the Ahemmusa Tribe.”

Jollain blinks and then furrows her brow confusedly.  
“Ahe…what?”

“Ahemmusa. They’re one of the tribes of Ashlanders on Vvardenfell.”

That certainly wasn’t what Jollain had expected to hear, which is why she looks thoroughly surprised. She doesn’t even protest when Tay pulls her shirt down and turns back around.  
“But…okay. Why would you, uh…”

Tay takes another deep breath and looks into Jollain’s eyes, uncertainty being very blatant over her features.  
“I was born in the tribe. My father, Falsabit, was a member, a craftsman among the Ahemmusa. He was very well respected and could’ve had a good future, but he fell in love with a ‘house elf’. Her name was Uryne, and she was a guar herder, who lived close to our tribe’s location at the time. They would meet occasionally, when my mother wandered in the vicinity or when he went outside of the tribe in order to sell some of his wares to the people in the nearby town.  
When they started getting closer, the Ashkhan showed his disapproval of this potential union pretty early on.”

“Uh…Ashkhan?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s the leader of the tribe. Ashlanders are led by Ashkhans in most mundane and security matters, while a Wise Woman handles spiritual leadership.  
So yeah, our leader initially opposed the relationship, but my father went for her anyway. My mother joined the tribe, got married and eventually, they received a child – me. Two years later, Areval was born as well.  
Unfortunately, as time continued, the troubles got worse. My mother didn’t agree with our Ashkhan in certain matters and he often tried to restrict her actions, what she could and couldn’t do, which disturbed her presence and agitated her. They started having arguments, which were small to begin with, but gradually got louder. Eventually, it reached a point where the Ashkhan approached my father and gave him a choice – kick out his wife, the woman he loves, or leave the tribe.”

Jollain definitely hadn’t anticipated this tale, nor what type of things Tay has gone through in the past.  
“Wow, that’s…some harsh shit. He chose the former, I guess?”

“Yes. After travelling around for a time, not knowing exactly where to go, they chose to start a farm close to Balmora, where they still live to this day. It’s where I’ve lived most of my life as well.”  
She folds her arms, lowers her eyes and shifts into a more distant expression.  
“My parents are…an unusual union, for several reasons. It’s not just due to where they come from, but their beliefs, attitudes and opinions. Father is passionate and strict, mother is laidback and friendly; father prizes loyalty above many other things, while mother cherishes freedom; father is traditional and trusts the ancestors’ wisdom, and mother worships the Tribunal. I’ve had to adapt to this, split my path and what I do to honor them both. Hence the tattoo.”

Jollain tries to absorb much of what Tay says, hoping to understand more than judge.  
“Yeah, sounds like it. Why do they stay together?”

Tay shrugs.  
“I suppose they both know that there is no other way for them. They do care for each other, despite the differences, but I also think it’s because they value family. They don’t want to break what they have, because it would likely shatter them both.”

“I…guess so. Still, doesn’t sound like the healthiest of relationships.”

“Probably not, but I love them both regardless.”  
Now that the story of her early childhood is over, they enter a more troubling area, which can certainly be observed on Tay’s face.  
“There are some unfortunate consequences with being an Ashlander, though. Due to our past, many from the Great Houses look down upon us, and even if my father has attempted to get me into the Hlaalu Guard, they have refused. And, for the same reason, my father also…despises outlanders.”

Jollain arches one of her eyebrows confusedly.  
“What? Why?”

“Because that’s what Ashlanders are often like. They’re very traditional and don’t trust outsiders, least of all those from other nations. It has forced me and my father to clash a few times in the past.”

“And that’s why you can’t join an imperial guild? I mean, I guess I understand why it’s difficult, but why should that be his decision? You live your own life.”

Tay hesitates again, almost wishing to retract what she has said so far and hide, but realizes that it’s far too late.  
“No, it’s not the entire reason.  
You see, when the Empire first came here over a decade ago, he got very angry. He knew they were already on the mainland, but he said that they did not have a place on our soil. At first, he simply spat in their general direction and made the occasional comment, but when outlanders attempted to buy from him, he got agitated, sometimes even hostile. That brought him into conflict with the Imperial Legion, not just once, but several times. One day, it…became violent. He is not a fighter, never has been, so he wasn’t ready for what would occur.”  
Her gaze drifts off to another location.  
“He…he lost parts of his left leg.”

There can be no doubt that Jollain wanted an explanation for it all, and she somehow wondered if there was a sad tale behind Tay’s reluctance, but this went beyond that.  
She widens her eyes and holds a hand over her mouth in shock.  
“…oh gods. That’s…”  
She moves to take one of Tay’s hands.  
“Tay, I…I’m so sorry.”

Tay doesn’t react much to the gesture and emits a short sigh.  
“After that, my father has never forgiven the Empire for a moment. He hates them with every fiber of his being.  
I chose to live with them, so that I could help out when I’m not working, but this has certain consequences. Even if I would prefer to work for the Fighters Guild, my father forbids it. He has warned me that, if I ever try to, I will never be welcomed back home. He has practically threatened to disown me.”

It’s not just the words, but how downtrodden that her friend looks, which pulls at Jollain’s heartstrings and makes her squeeze the hand tighter.  
“Tay…that’s horrible. I’m sorry.  
Does he…know about us?”

“He…he doesn’t know that you’re my friend, no. I could never tell him.  
Now that Areval knows, he might do, but he hasn’t done it so far. I suppose he still cares for me and doesn’t want father to get angry. Or maybe he hopes that he can scare you off, I don’t know. Arry has always preferred to go his own way. He doesn’t live with the rest of us, but stays here in Balmora.”

Suddenly, all the answers are revealed and Jollain can comprehend the difficulty, and the entire mess of this situation. If she goes her own way, she will never be allowed to see her family again, a group of people that she cherishes above anyone else.  
“Well, I…thank you for telling me, Tay. It took a lot of courage to finally reveal it, especially after all you’ve gone through.  
However, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I have to say it. You have to confront your father.”

Tay practically flinches when she hears it, as if that’s the most horrible thing someone has said to her.  
“What? No, I…that will never work.”

“And, what, you’d rather be stuck like this for the rest of your life, never having any friends and doing heinous crap? What kind of future is that? Is that really what your parents want for you as well?”

“Well, no, I don’t think so, but…”

“Then you have to talk to him. You have to explain what you’re going through, what Camonna is forcing you to do. If you keep silent, this is only going to get worse.”

Tay grimaces somewhat, and the fear she displayed earlier arises once more. She doesn’t know what to say, or how to get out of this without delving into something very unpleasant.  
“I…I don't know. I have not opposed my father so adamantly in…well, years. I don’t want to lose them. I can’t.”

“And I get that. Seriously, I do. But this isn’t something you can postpone forever, not if you want life to become better.  
Besides, you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll go with you.”

Even more shock, and Tay seems somewhat panicked.  
“No! Jollain, you can’t. It wouldn’t work at all. My father, he-“

Jollain furrows her brow, trying to appear fiercer than before.  
“He’d do what? Attack me? No offense, but I don’t think a guy that can barely walk will be able to do much to me. That’s just reality.  
If you’re going to confront him properly, it’s for the best if I’m with you, because I’m involved in this scenario too. That’s why we’re even talking about it. It’s better if I’m there, to show how serious this is. I want your parents to see how much I care for you, and that I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’d sacrifice anything to protect you.”

Even if she really feels fearful about what might occur at a meeting like this, Tay is more surprised by how eager Jollain is and what kind of words of encouragement she offers. It’s why Tay slowly fights her own reluctance and gives in.  
“…fine. If you think that’s best.”

Jollain is glad to hear it, that she has been able to tear down the wall that has separated them, which is why she grasps the hand once more.  
“I do. I want to get you out of that horrible group and find a better way to survive. I’ll do anything to make it happen.  
Next time we get the chance, I’m coming to that farm and there’s nothing that will stop me.”


	24. Hearts ablaze

The sun has reached slightly past the center of the sky when they arrive near the farm, somewhere to the west of Balmora. A slow breeze is enveloping the pair, and even though they’re still not all too close to the actual coast, they can sense vague notions of the sea in the air.  
It’s been a few days since they discussed the rather difficult truths of Tayerise’s past and while Jollain has not met as much resistance as that initial push, it’s clear that the dunmer is still very reluctant about going here. Too late to switch directions now.

Already from afar, the duo can see the structures and the fields of this area, aspects that Jollain finds rather interesting. Back in Cyrodiil, she didn’t exactly spend much time out on the countryside, but despite that, she’s fairly sure that most of those in the center of the Empire are both similar and dissimilar from this one.  
It’s not like Tay’s family owns a big chunk of land, but certainly large enough for a stable, a small field to grow some type of crops on and a patch of grass for their animals to feed on.

Once they get closer, it’s the plants that get Jollain’s attention first. They appear like small green bushes, placed rather sparsely together, with some type of pale yellow items growing from them.  
She turns to glance at her companion.  
“What are those?”, she asks and nudges her head in that direction.

As they walk upon the well-traversed dirt road, Tay follows her gaze and views the sight with familiar eyes.  
“My family doesn’t just herd guar, but also grow saltrice. That’s kind of why I knew about the uses for it.”

“Oh, so your family makes alcohol too?”

“Eh, no, they don’t have that type of knowledge, but they do sell it to others for that purpose.  
It can be quite rough work to harvest this stuff alone, which is why my mother occasionally hires one of the kids from Balmora or another nearby town, to help out. Not a lot of pay, but we can usually afford someone who’s looking for extra drakes.”  
She diverts her eyes towards Jollain.  
“That’s why I took the job from Camonna. It pays quite well in comparison, especially when added together with what father does.”

If she’s trying to convince Jollain that it’s worth it, that tactic is not working. Jollain folds her arms skeptically.  
“Hmm, I see. And what is your dad’s profession?”

“He’s a leatherworker. Knows how to craft all sorts of gear with it and utilize for various equipment. He has made clothes, armor, mats, bags, wall enhancements, riding equipment, holsters…and lots of other things.  
It was obviously easier when he could actually walk better, but he continues to ply his trade even without it. We need the money, so…he does everything he can.”

Jollain can’t deny that she feels for them. It’s not an easy life, and she is very well aware of what desperation can force a person to do. She has done it herself, many times over. Life in Vvardenfell doesn’t sound very different from the streets of the Imperial City.  
These thoughts are swiftly put into the back of her mind when both of them arrive at one of the nearby fields. Upon these patches of grass, they can spot some scaly reptilian creatures, ones that Jollain believes she has seen before, but never had an opportunity to actually encounter. She smiles when she sees how the animals approach the wooden fence, getting closer to the elves.

“Hey, these are guar, right?”

Tay glances at the shorter woman’s expression and seems pleased with Jollain’s reaction.  
“They certainly are.”

“I haven’t had much chance to actually meet these creatures up close.”  
She looks at Tay questioningly.  
“Is it, uh…okay to pet them?”

“Of course. They can be rough to encounter in the wild, but when they’re tame, guar are very gentle and soft creatures. Some of the sweetest companions to have on Vvardenfell. A lot of people like them. Well, dunmer and argonians, anyway.”

Jollain takes a step closer and a few of the reptiles approaches her, sniffing in her direction, their yellow eyes viewing her curiously.  
Eventually, one of them pushes its head towards her hand and she strokes her palm against its scales, which it appears to enjoy. It makes her smile even further, and consequently, also draws more attention from the others, who now wants to be cared for as well.

The bosmer chuckles and does her best to spread her affection between them.  
“Aww, they’re very sweet. I think guar are much cuter than all the giant bugs.”

Tay watches the entire scene with surprise, but also delight. She certainly enjoys seeing Jollain happy, especially when she’s the cause of it. Well, technically it’s these guar, but they do belong to her family. She takes what she can get.  
“They don’t usually take to people this quickly. Maybe you have a hidden guar spirit in you.”

“Hah, maybe!”  
One of the guar approaches her even further, pushing its snout up towards her, over the fence. This intrigues Jollain and she leans down slightly as well, to see what it might do. Tay becomes a little fearful that it might try to bite Jollain – they do have rather sharp fangs – but it only pulls out its large tongue, which it uses to lick her cheek. Jollain starts to giggle.  
“Hey, no need to get physical so quickly! We haven’t even gone on a date yet!”

Tay’s smile returns, feeling her heart pulsates with warmth and her anxiety about the meeting that will follow this encounter is briefly forgotten.  
While they stand there and try to have fun, though, they suddenly hear how the door opens up and someone steps out from the house nearby. The building itself is shaped somewhat similar to some of the ones that Jollain remember seeing in Ald’ruhn, like some kind of large shell of a sea creature or a bug.

Out from the door comes a fairly short woman, no taller than Jollain, but she has quite a stocky build. Her arms and legs are rather thick, her face is quite round and her belly somewhat larger than the younger women. She seems like a capable farmer, but probably not as physically strong in a fight as Tay. She has dark grey skin, short black hair with only a few grey strands and aged features. One might expect more if she was human, but dunmer can live for a rather long time, after all.

When she spots her daughter, the woman smiles.  
“Ah, Tayerise, there you are. You didn’t come home last night, so I wondered-“  
Her expression falters and shifts into something hesitant when she spots her companion.  
“Wait, who is this? You’ve brought someone?”

Tay can’t help the panic that settles itself in her chest. She hadn’t prepared for the encounter to come to her, as she had kinda hoped that she’d be able to do this in her own pace. Why does everything have to fail going according to plan when her family is involved?  
“Erm…”

It gets even worse when Jollain smiles shyly and raises a hand to wave it.  
“Uh, hello there. You must be Uryne. I did come with Tay, yeah.”

Great. Now this will only become worse, when Tay isn’t speaking for herself.  
Uryne appears somewhat suspicious, glancing between this unknown bosmer and her daughter.  
“Alright, uh…I didn’t know we would have guests.”

Tay clears her throat, hoping that she’ll be able to maintain some kind of calm, in order to explain the chaos.  
“M-mother, I…I haven’t been able to fully tell you yet, but I did mean to introduce you”, she says. Her voice is still quite shaky, displaying her nervousness.  
“During the past several…months, I suppose, I’ve been hanging out with an acquaintance from time to time. A…a friend.”

Uryne may have been uncertain to begin with, but that switches into something intrigued instead, while she views Jollain once more.  
“Really? You’ve made a friend?”

“Yes, this is her. We’ve spent a lot of time together, whenever I go to Balmora. Well, not every day, but…often.”

Trying to straighten herself, Jollain continues to showcase a similar smile as previously, as she approaches and offers her hand.  
“It’s nice to meet you, missis Uryne. Uh, sera Uryne, I mean. My name is Jollain. I live in Balmora and we befriended each other through…work-related stuff.”

Uryne accepts the gesture and returns her handshake eagerly. Jollain can feel that her grasp is quite sturdy, as expected.  
“Oh. You work with Camonna?”

“Eh, not quite. But we did some…business a while ago, she and I. That’s how we started hanging out.”

“Oh, very interesting. I didn’t know Tayerise did a lot of business. I mostly thought she guarded Camonna’s facilities, especially at night. They say she’s very good, one of the best.”

“Heh, yeah. She’s definitely good in a fight.  
Erm, not that I’ve seen a lot of them or anything.”

Before her mother can get too far into questioning this appearance, Tay quickly gets a word in.  
“Mother, I need to speak with father and Jollain has to come with me.”

Unfortunately, Uryne appears about as skeptical of this request as Tay did back in Balmora.  
“…are you sure? You know I don’t mind meeting your friends, sweetheart, but you should know that your father is…much less lenient. He won’t be happy.”

Tay sighs, lowering her gaze and her shoulders slumping.  
“I know.”

Jollain tries to steel herself, showing the mother that she’s not going to back down.  
“We realize this won’t be a very fun encounter, sera, but this is something we have to do. There are things that your husband must know about Tay. If he doesn’t listen, there’s a chance that your daughter might end up in quite a lot of trouble.”

Uryne takes a moment to watch both of the younger women, before she sighs and shrugs.  
“I can see that you’ve prepared yourselves for this and I won’t be able to stop you. Whatever you aim to do, be careful and polite. There will likely be quite a bit of outrage.”

Jollain snorts.  
“I’ve met your son. I’m ready.”

The old farmer shakes her head and starts walking off to the stables.  
“Go ahead, he’s in his workspace right now. I have to go feed the guar.”

The duo gives each other another glance and then they proceed.  
When they’re out of earshot, Jollain takes a step closer to her friend and lowers her voice.  
“Your mom seems pretty alright, by the way.”

Tay inclines her head.  
“I did tell you. Mother has always been…open-minded. She doesn’t fully like the idea of being led by a foreign power from far away, but she does realize that there might be more people coming to Vvardenfell, which means more customers to sell their wares to. She thinks that’s a good idea and therefore doesn’t mind meeting other races.”

This is one aspect that makes Jollain feels somewhat better, but also something that she has to sigh about.  
“So, your father is going to be the opposite of that.”

“Not…completely, but close, yes.”

“Just had to make sure I’m on the right page. Too late to turn back now, so let’s just do it.”

Both of them are silent as they step inside the house, not just due to making final preparations, but to give themselves a chance to take everything in. This is especially critical for Jollain.  
The interior of this home isn’t all too different from what she’s been used to seeing in Balmora, although perhaps a little bit larger. She can spot old wooden tables, chairs, flat bed arrangements, a cooking fire, one window and very little decoration. There are the occasional artistic leather pieces hanging from the walls, but nothing too fancy.  
This room does have two more doors leading into other sections of the house, but seeing the size of the building, Jollain assumes they aren’t large. One is likely dedicated to being the parents’ bedroom, but as they hear noise from the other, it has to be the workroom of Tay’s father.

Inside the room, they find Falsabit sitting on a chair behind a wooden bench, close to the wall. The chair is pushed towards the table too, in order to give him reach. He can’t really stand up and work, so he does his best with his current position. It does seem to take a lot of effort, whenever he has to switch tool or do something that requires turning his project, but he is particularly adamant about completing it.  
Compared to his wife, Falsabit is slimmer, smoother and taller, although not quite at Tay’s height. He has a medium grey skin, pretty slim black beard and longer hair in a short ponytail, but only a few grey strands in it. And then there’s obviously the…lack of a foot in one pants leg. There’s a cane resting next to his chair and a wooden leg left by the wall, that explain this notion even further.

As they enter, he’s using a piece of cloth to polish the leather sheath he’s working on and is too distracted to notice their approach. Tay has to clear her throat.  
“Father?”

Falsabit reacts and leans back in his chair, turning to view the door and has to blink his eyes to focus.  
“Tayerise? What are you doing home so early?”, he asks with a firm albeit slightly hoarse voice.

“I uh, I was off last night, father. Doing some extra work for Camonna. Once I was done, I went to go get someone, before we walked here.”

He arches one of his slim eyebrows.  
“We?”  
When he tilts his head somewhat, he sees someone past the doorway, standing slightly behind Tay. He narrows his eyes.  
“Who is this?”

Tay has to restrain herself as to not squirm. This is it, where they’ll step into territory that might be deemed as dangerous, or at least uncertain. She can’t screw this up.  
“There is something we must talk about. I brought someone with me that I need to introduce.”

When Tay gestures for Jollain to enter, the frown on Falsabit’s brow deepens even further. His whole body seems to grow tense.  
“This…what is she? A bosmer? Altmer? I can never tell the difference”, he says dismissively.

“Father, please…”

They’re off to a ‘good’ start then, which is seen very blatantly through Jollain’s bitter smile in his direction.  
“Hah, right. I see where your son gets his shitty attitude.”

Tay rolls her eyes. This is becoming just like her nightmares about the encounter.  
“Jollain…”

Falsabit looks equally disapproving, no matter who he focuses on, having to put down his work as to not mess it up, in case he starts to explode.  
“Tayerise, would you mind explaining to me why you’ve brought someone with such insolence into my home?”

She tries her best to stay steady. She may be taller, stronger and sturdier than him…but he is her father. She has great respect for her family and likely always will have.  
“Father, this is Jollain. I met her several months back in Balmora, through work. Ever since, the two of us have spent time together at an increasing rate and…we are friends.”

Tay almost has to bite her tongue at the last three words. It’s difficult to imagine that she’d ever get here, to receive the chance to lay everything out for her family. Now that she’s finally here, it’s even more nerve-racking.  
“Friends? What nonsense is this?”

Jollain snorts derisively.  
“I guess that’s a foreign concept to you, but being friends is when two or more people start to like each other a lot and they feel a strong bond between them, even when they’re not family. They love and care for one another too.”

“This ‘friend’ of yours seems to have a mouth that she can’t shut either”, he practically spits out.

She glares right back at him, not being ready to stand down.  
“Yeah, sorry. It has this built-in ‘bullshit’ alarm that triggers whenever I face people like you. It goes haywire.”

Tay shuts her eyes and clenches her hands. She’s not angry, just thoroughly discouraged. Why would she have expected anything else? The type of people that Falsabit and Jollain are…well, they just aren’t compatible, for multiple reasons. If only Tay wasn’t so adamant about doing whatever Jollain tells her…  
“Please, listen, both of you. I didn’t come here to fight. I want to talk. Can we not be cordial for just a few minutes?”

For now, both of them settle down, but it’s still very much a tense situation. Falsabit folds his arms and returns his focus to his daughter.  
“Go on then.”

“Like I said, this is my friend. I do care for her a great deal. Despite what you may think of her, father, we have been hanging out fairly often.”

“And yet you have never mentioned this, not once.”

Tay does momentarily bite at her lower lip, not wanting to falter now. Keep yourself steady, Tayerise.  
“I…didn’t mean to keep her a secret, but I had to. At least until recently.”

“Why? Why would you bring someone like this into our home? She will be nothing but trouble, I can see it on her.”

“Because…because we need to talk about something important and it concerns her too.”  
Tay lowers her gaze to the floor, trying to focus her thoughts upon the approach of this matter, rather than the fear of her father yelling. She needs them to make sense.  
“I’ve been thinking a lot about certain aspects of my life lately, surrounding the things that I do. I should be honest with you, so I will – I’m tired of serving Camonna, father, of working for them. All this position ever does is cause trouble for everyone and the manner of schemes they involve me in…they make me uncomfortable. I don’t want to do it anymore.””

Falsabit is still scowling, but he doesn’t look entirely surprised. Have they discussed this before?  
“And what else would you do, huh? Work as a servant? A miner? This is a better job, with more gold.”

“I know that, but it’s still not ‘good’. They have forced me to do certain tasks that even you would disapprove of father, that you have taught me are wrong.  
Besides, there are other ways.”

“And what ‘other ways’ would those be?”

Tay briefly tries to look into her father’s dark red eyes, but she falters, not being able to keep it for very long. Jollain is viewing both of them and have seen the same gesture when she speaks with the warrior about serious matters. She is not good in social situations, it seems, not even with her family.  
“Like…the Fighters Guild.”

And here comes the first eruption. Tay doesn’t even need to look at him to feel how his body strains itself, as his grasp grows fiercer, his jaw clenching and his frown intensifying.  
“…what?! Absolutely not!”

“Father, please! I ask you to reconsider your stance. Think of the consequences of staying in Camonna. I can still earn gold with the Guild!”

“Yes, filthy imperial coins! The bastards that drain all of the life right out of Morrowind! It’s this ‘friend’ of yours, isn’t it? She’s been poisoning you!”

Tay exhales heavily.  
“That’s…that’s not true!”

“Actually”, Jollain intervenes and returns Falsabit’s glare once more, “yeah, I have been telling her to leave, but I did so for good reasons. Do you know the kind of stuff those assholes have her do? Extortion, ambushes, interrogation, intimidating innocents…not the type of activities you want on your record. Well, not me, anyway.”

“No worse than the imperial scum!”, he throws at her.

She may not be much of an imperial supporter, but this is something she can’t agree with.  
“Are you stupid? How is it not worse? Camonna murders and enslaves people!”

“And the Empire doesn’t?! You don’t think they shackle people into their own type of slavery, forcing us to earn gold for them? And who do you think did this to me?!”, he yells and points at his leg. “By the ancestors, I was unarmed!”

Jollain’s fierceness halts only briefly, as she is somewhat taken aback by that. She doesn’t really like all of the stuff that the Legion – or the Watch – have done either. She knows more than most that not every person is treated equally in the Empire.  
“Yeah, I know that already, but it doesn’t mean all of the Empire is just as bad, nor are everyone who’s forced to live in their lands!  
Do you even know anything about the Fighters Guild? They’re not the Imperial Legion, they’re mercs. They’re a band of mercenaries who often work as bounty hunters or guards. Sure, they originated in Cyrodiil, but why does that matter? They at least do honest work.”

Falsabit clenches one hand and then lifts it to point a finger at her.  
“It matters because they are from the _Empire!_ They are taking everything from us – gold, jobs, leadership, armies – and now they want to take our people too?! _Never!”_

“But Camonna are the ones who want to fight everyone, even outlanders, no matter what we do! Even if it hurts innocent people, they don’t care!  
You may not believe this, but I know that your daughter is a good person. She doesn’t want to be with that gang anymore, and if you have taught her anything, I know that you can’t seriously agree with Camonna either. I mean, Akatosh’s scales, you’re an Ashlander too, so why the fuck would you want to associate with house elf thugs?”

He flinches when she speaks those words, clearly not having anticipated them coming out of Jollain’s mouth. His glare returns soon after, but it’s infused with shock as it directs itself towards Tay.  
“…you…you told her?”

The kind of expression he shows her, it’s…difficult. It’s rare for her to see him so utterly taken aback. Tay swallows, hoping not to lose ground now.  
“I…she’s my friend, father! I can’t keep secrets between us. I care for her.”

“More than your own family’s safety?!”

“That’s ridiculous! You know I don’t!”

He ignores Tay’s protests and instead faces Jollain, pointing at her more fiercely than previously.  
“ _You_ , get out of my home, _right now!_ I don’t want to see you here ever-“

Jollain folds her arms and interrupts him, trying to parry his stare with equal intensity.  
“No, I won’t.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I’m not leaving until you agree that Tay can quit Camonna and do what she wants.”

“And let her betray her people? To abandon her family’s security? What type of friend are you?!”

Jollain takes a few steps closer, walking past Tay and actually stands closest to him now.  
“Camonna are not your people! They don’t give a rat’s ass about you!”

Falsabit is furious and looks like he wants to get out of his chair to grab her and throw her out, but he clearly isn’t in a position to do that. However, he does attempt to seize his cane and stand up, with some difficulty.  
“I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t want to either. Whatever you’re planning, whatever you hoped to achieve, you should do it elsewhere and leave us alone!”

“All I want is to care for Tayerise, to do what’s best for her.”

“And that means insulting her family, does it?”

“You…you don’t even know what the fuck I’ve done for her! I’ve helped her out on numerous occasions, dammit!”

He is now out of his chair and waves dismissively.  
“Clearly not enough!”

She wants to approach him, to stand right in front of him and yell, but she feels Tay’s hand on her shoulder, holding her back.  
“Who do you think got your fucking son out of prison, huh?”

Falsabit’s anger is somewhat halted then and he shifts into what appears to be puzzlement instead.  
“…pardon?”

“You think Tay managed to get him out of that Divines-damned prison all on her own? Of course she fucking didn’t! That was me, you s’wit. _It was me!”_

At this time, Tay is kinda glad that they don’t have neighbors nearby and that they’re indoors, because the yelling done on both parts is loud enough to be heard across an entire district inside of Balmora. She’s also not sure whether she should tell Jollain to rein it in or to cheer her on.  
Falsabit hesitates briefly, looking very unsure, until he decides upon slowly shaking his head.  
“No…no, you’re lying.”

Jollain swirls around and stares right up at Tay’s face.  
“Tell him, Tay. Admit who helped you get him out of that prison.”

It’s not a request so much as a demand. Tay feels very reluctant about this, but it seems there’s very little opportunity to discuss this matter now.  
“She, uh…she’s right, father. I would never have gotten Arry out of Moonmonth without her.”

Jollain sneers at him.  
“See?”

Falsabit scoffs.  
“She’s just making you say it.”

“No…no, father. She’s right. She is pretty much the only reason he’s not still in there. No one in Camonna wanted to help me and I had no one else I could trust with it. In spite of Areval’s hate, and the fact that he wanted to harm her, she helped him. She made great personal sacrifices, just to get him out. He would not be a free man if it wasn’t for Jollain.”

Instead of the anger and ferocity he showed earlier, Falsabit now looks bewildered and overwhelmed. He takes a step back, diverting his eyes. He can’t focus on his work, nor fully on the conversation, and instead stays silent.  
It takes several moments for him to recuperate and he stands by the wall when he finally speaks again.  
“Why would you do that?”

“Because of Tay”, Jollain states in a resolute tone. “I’ll do anything for her, even if I have to face the hate from her family. That’s what you do for…” For love? “For friendship.”

Falsabit raises a hand up to his forehead, his confusion being too much, and he practically appears distraught now.  
“Get out.”

And despite everything she offers, it appears they’ll just spit on her again. Typical.  
Jollain furrows her brow.  
“That’s it? You’ve heard all of our arguments and you’re just gonna tell her to continue down this horrible path in life regardless?”

“No, I didn’t-  
Just…just leave. Please.”

He sounds much less fierce, not demanding so much as requesting it of her. It’s…strange after the previous hostility. Jollain’s fighting spirit is not over, though.  
“Listen to me-“

“Jollain, wait”, she hears Tay saying, interrupting her. The dunmer slowly pulls her back, dragging her closer.  
“That’s enough. Come…we should go.”

Jollain is very surprised by those words and hesitantly looks up to view Tay’s face. Compared to earlier, Tay is neither tense nor sad or angry. She just seems…thoughtful, a bit absent.  
“But-“

Tay redirects her gaze directly to Jollain’s and leans down to whisper.  
“Please. He has to think about this.”

Reluctantly, Jollain turns around and heads for the door. When she leaves, she raises her voice, making sure that Falsabit hears.  
“This isn’t over. I’m getting her out of there, whether you want to or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yep, Jollain wants Tayerise to do honest work, but she doesn't hold herself to such standards. Never said she wasn't hypocritical._


	25. Night of tension

Nighttime is the favorite section of the day for a lot of people around Tamriel. Thieves, smugglers, kids, corrupt leaders, vampires and many more. They all have a reason to enjoy the cold embrace of the sunless sky, and it’s not something that Vaziri would ever blame them for. After all, is she not the same? Those in her profession, the wandering and awaiting blades, thrive in these environments. Most of their targets are asleep, they are more difficult to see and for many citizens, the darkness brings an alarming sense of dread, as if illusions sprout without the actual killers even having to do anything.

It’s been a while since Vaziri visited Balmora. She travels around a lot across the isle, but as of late, her assignments have been heavily focused on Vivec and Sadrith Mora. The ‘divine’ city to the south is enjoyable enough, due to a certain diversity, but Balmora can give her the same sensation. It is at least slightly less likely that she’ll be met with any scorn in areas such as these. She knows that Camonna Tong operates heavily in this region, but those can be ignored for the most part.

One might think that she would be better known in a few sectors of this land now, especially to the guards, but very few people ever recognize her, at least among the dunmer. She might just have that kind of face, simply being another khajiit.  
There is also the fact that she is used to disguising herself into all sorts of roles, in order to blend in – farmer, miner, servant, or sometimes dressed in simple robes, like a merchant or a vendor of some kind. There are still those who look at her unfavorably, due to her race, but she can deal with that. As long as they don’t figure out who she is, that’s what matters.

Working in this type of business has always been rather intriguing. It’s not like she would call herself a big supporter of Morag Tong or anything, but being a member certainly has benefits. The most enjoyable out of these is that she can lawfully kill people, of course.  
And no, she would definitely not consider herself a fan of crazed killing, but she has a particular…vendetta regarding certain levels of Morrowind society. Being an assassin is a highly satisfying payback for that reason.

That said, it’s not like everything is perfect. Being a member also means that she has to follow the rules of the Tong, and there are a few critical ones. Sometimes, she also has to perform things that she finds less amenable and that she’d rather decline, but in the end, she can live with both ideas. By now, it’s almost all she knows, as every experience she has endured in this profession has seeped into her being and transformed her.

Vaziri is a killer. Not one that usually stabs people in the back or fires well-placed arrows, perhaps, but she still cannot escape the classification and the truth of what she is. Years ago, when this entire scenario was new to her, she could’ve escaped their clutches and found a new place, hidden away from what she had done. But she didn’t do that. She refused to forget the sensation of her first kill and instead embraced all of it. Now, she is intertwined with the identity to the extent that they can no longer be separated.

In the past, she has actually considered other roads. No, not to leave the life of a murderer, but to try out other avenues. She has pondered joining the Dark Brotherhood for example, as they are certainly tempting. They might’ve been an interesting change of pace, but…there are downsides.  
The best thing with Morag Tong is pretty obvious, after all – except for being able to kill, she also has legal protection for it. As long as she follows every contract, she can do whatever she wishes, in order to get to her target.

Being with the Dark Brotherhood would mean to lose all of this. It’d make living more difficult, being forced to hide in society and acknowledge that every person around you is a potential enemy, should they ever find out the truth. Sure, there’s a danger if people realize that she’s with the Tong too, as that might spread the information and allow her foes to attempt acts of retribution, but at least they can’t simply turn her into the guards to be arrested and executed.  
From what she has heard, some people find entertainment in the thrill of evading capture, but she is not fond of being hunted, of the constant fear that one’s home may be ransacked and burnt to the ground. Been there, done that.

She is aware of the so called ‘grey contracts’, of course, opportunities for Morag Tong agents to go…in between the law. There aren’t any details she can speak of, but she does realize that these likely pay rather well. Fortunately, she doesn’t enjoy such uncertain risks, as she prefers hers to be calculated. Safety is still one of her foremost concerns too and while being a hired killer is never without hazards, she wants to have a certain network that can protect her, just in case.

Vaziri’s intended purpose in Balmora should be obvious, although the actual deed does not have to be finished tonight. No, this time is something she is utilizing for strategic and preparational purposes, to learn more of her target’s position and what to do in order to get ready for the eruption.  
As she wanders the streets beneath the moon, she suddenly notes something curious in her peripheral vision, which she somehow recognizes. Her reflexes react quickly, and she turns to get a better view of this entity. It’s an individual, one that disappears behind a corner before she has a chance to assess them fully, but…wasn’t that person familiar? Could it have been…?  
She knows that a certain interesting character is supposed to live in this region somewhere, but Balmora is big, so she never considered the prospect of encountering them. If it really was who she thinks it might’ve been, that would be…intriguing.

Seeing no reason to ignore it, Vaziri decides to take a closer look. She glances around to make sure no one is watching her, before she hurries up to a wall. Lifting her hands in the air, she moves her fingers in order to cast some magic and initiates a levitation spell. She is not an expert at this type of spellcasting, as it is both time and energy consuming, but she knows enough in order to get herself into position. After that, it should just be a matter of finding a useful angle.

Easily making it onto the roof of the closest house, she crouches and wanders up to the edge of the surface, leaning over it to get a better view. It appears she was correct – down there in the darkness of the streets, she spots none other than Jollain, the strange bosmer thief she has encountered twice now. She is a peculiar individual, because none of the information about her actually makes sense, no matter how one looks at it.

The first time they met, it was pretty clear that Jollain and the argonian were both associated with the Legion or some other imperial organization. Why else would they have been willing to assist Vaziri’s target, after all? It is highly unlikely that it was all a coincidence and from all they said before she arrived, they cannot have been friends.  
But then in Sadrith Mora, when they ran into each other again, the situation was different. What was Jollain doing there? Why was she hunting an imperial, a Legionnaire? Was he a traitor or is she from an entirely different group?

Jollain’s allegiance is completely obscured, a mystery. After looking into a lot of rumors within the underworld, Vaziri found out that she’s associated with the Thieves Guild. Well, not only that, she’s also apparently some type of favorite student of a local district leader. It’s near impossible that the Thieves Guild would actively hunt Legionnaires like that, at least not in the open, so what was her reason for doing what she did in Sadrith Mora?  
She is a thief, an ally of the Legion and yet a hunter of them? Is she an agent of some sort or a double agent? Vaziri can’t tell what’s what…and that makes Jollain a very intriguing person. In fact, she may be one of the most curious people available on the entire island right now. It might be difficult, but she is a puzzle that must be solved.

This is exactly why Vaziri temporarily postpones her mission for the night and pursues the bosmer. She wants to see where Jollain goes, maybe even locate her home. She could go visit this woman later on, or just break into the house if necessary. If the lock isn’t too complicated, Vaziri should have a spell for it.  
Actually, a meeting might be quite suspicious. What would she tell the bosmer? They haven’t exactly met on the most favorable of occasions. Even if she helped out last time, it would still be weird and awkward. After gathering the information, she’ll have to consider what path to wander.

Vaziri is forced to relocate to another roof at least twice during this fairly slow pursuit, as Jollain isn’t exactly in a hurry. This is when she realizes that she is not alone out here.  
In the distance, past some of the corners of adjacent streets, Vaziri spots even more people, which her natural night vision allows her to identify as a small group of dunmer. She doesn’t recognize any of them, but by their movements and stances, it’s pretty clear that they’re watching and following Jollain. What reason would they have for this? Are they involved with her somehow? Or possibly guards, looking to arrest her? If they realize she’s in the Thieves Guild, that’s not a completely implausible outcome.  
This theory seems increasingly less likely, though, when studying their outfits. She has never heard of any Great House Guard that move around in civilian clothes while on duty. Their jobs usually don’t include investigating or spying on other factions anyhow. If they need something, they’ll raid the facilities of their enemies, not sneak around.

Assuming that she doesn’t know who they are and that it’s best to wait, Vaziri chooses to watch.  
The group spreads out, some of them getting into positions that would be useful to flank Jollain from and making sure that she is completely surrounded. When the time is right, one of them chooses to reveal himself and approaches Jollain directly. His appearance seemingly surprises the thief, who instinctively takes a step back.

Despite being several meters away, Vaziri can easily overhear the conversation. Her sense of hearing is fairly proficient, and they are not exactly being silent.  
“Going somewhere?”, the bearded man inquiries, in a pretty smug tone.

Jollain tries to maintain the distance from him, even if she has to walk backwards and if Vaziri angles her head, she can see a frown on Jollain’s face.  
“Areval? What…what do you want?”

“Oh, I was just going for a little night stroll through our beautiful city. Well, me and my mates, that is.”

The thief glances around, seeing how she’s definitely not alone. Outside of Areval, there are another six dunmer, all of them dressed in light armors and equipped with short swords or daggers on their bodies. This is in sharp contrast to Jollain, who utilizes no more than a simple set of a black shirt, tight moss green pants and brown boots. The tension on her body grows exponentially and even if she’s not armored, she does have one dagger poorly concealed in her clothes.

“I…see”, she states tentatively. “And you’re all coming for little me, huh? That’s an unfortunate coincidence.”

Her tone doesn’t hide her sarcasm, but it’s not spoken with much confidence. Displaying attitude even in fear. Vaziri likes that.  
“Indeed, I think so too”, Areval tells her, his eyes viewing her like a predator focusing on prey. “Guess that’s just life in Balmora, huh?”

“Cut the crap, ‘Arry’. What do you want?”

Areval clenches one of his hands and starts to glare at her. The game is over now, it seems.  
“Don’t use that name, you worthless little s’wit. You don’t deserve to put such a word in your filthy mouth.”

“Hah! Only Tay can use it, huh? Or is it your parents too? Your mom was kinda sweet the last time we met, after all.”

“Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about her!”  
He raises his voice, and it does echo over the area, but it isn’t enough to be considered a scream that resonates across the city. It is very much getting heated now, though.  
“I heard about your little visit to our farm a while ago, and I don’t like it. When will you start learning that you should stay the fuck away from places where you don’t belong?”

“Don’t belong? Excuse me, asshole, but I was invited.”

Areval raises his closed fist and points a finger at her.  
“ _No!_ No, you fucking weren’t!”

Jollain’s scowl remains, but she also places her hands at her hips. Her tone is still relatively moderate.  
“Yes, I was. Not by your dad, but your sister. And, actually, your mom seemed to like me too.”

“I don’t give a shit about what you think you know, you ugly little worm! I’m telling you that you’re going to stay away from my family from now on, if you know what’s good for you. If not, I’ll show you exactly how dangerous it can be to enter someone’s home uninvited.  
Have I made myself clear?”

Despite not having given any signals for it, Areval’s companions are starting to circle the area, likely trying to box her in. Jollain is obviously growing tenser due to this fact.  
Instinctively, she places her hand by the dagger, the only real weapon she has on her at this time.  
“Yeah, very. How ‘friendly’ of you to make this approach.”

He smiles at her comment in quite a mocking fashion.  
“What’s wrong, fetcher? Feeling a little exposed? Good, because there’s no way out of here. And this time, your little magic trick won’t work.”

“Is this the way you pay me back? I get you out of prison and you threaten me? I knew you were an ass, Arry, but not a despicable one.”

Areval grits his teeth, but it’s difficult to say whether the cause is her sentence or the second use of the nickname.  
“You didn’t get me out of fucking prison, my sister did! If it wasn’t for her, I would never-“

“Wrong, dickhead. It was me. I got us into the fort to begin with and I spoke to the Commander. She listened to _me.”_

In frustration, the dunmer pulls out the weapon from his belt, although doesn’t point it at anything other than the ground. For now, at least.  
“Lies! As if you know any imperial commanders. Even the humans would know not to trust an obvious piece of shit like you.”

Jollain shrugs.  
“Hey, if you want, I could take you to speak with her and show you just how well the two of us are acquainted with each other. Might even invite you into her office.”

“I don’t think so, scum. Not again. And actually, you’re wrong – I’m not here to threaten, not anymore. With your behavior, I’d rather make sure to finish the job I started in Caldera.”

And this is when chaos breaks loose. Perhaps they should’ve expected as much, and for Vaziri, the unnerving wind in the air made it pretty obvious where the situation was going. There is no more politeness, no more opportunities for discussion. The dunmer are going to attack Jollain and they’re going to do so together.  
This creates a dilemma, one that makes Vaziri hesitate. She briefly ponders what to do. Should she leave it and let this squabble be? It’s not like this is her business or anything, nor does she really know any of them, not even Jollain. The bosmer probably still sees her as a sort of enemy.  
However, losing such an intriguing individual to an unfair scenario like this would be…unfortunate. All those details she’d want to ask about, all the mysteries she’d love to discover the truth of - they’d be lost, evaporate into thin air.

As the dunmer rush at her, Jollain furrows her brow even further, quickly surveying her situation before she pulls out her weapon. It’s quite blatant that she’s not without experience and training.  
The first one who reaches her attempts to slash at her, but she dodges the strike and kicks at their leg, before delivering the butt of her dagger into their abdomen. She uses this as a distraction to come up behind them and when the second person hesitates she cuts their leg, putting two people temporarily out of the fight. She quickly parries the blade of a third and delivers a kick straight to the groin.  
The fight has lasted no more than a few seconds and she has put out an exceptional amount of people for someone who looks so small and insignificant.

Vaziri is most fascinated when she sees what Jollain reveals to her fourth opponent – magic. She can see very small sparks in the bosmer’s hand and Jollain is clearly about to use it on this individual, but that’s when the battle halts. Areval was ready for this development and grabs her wrist, twisting it around and the pain makes the spell slip out of the thief’s hand, forcing her to groan in agony. After that, he can easily toss her into a nearby wall.  
Before she can escape this position, Areval delivers a hard kick straight into her midsection and another enemy slash at her side, cutting open parts of her clothes and spilling her blood. Due to the pain, she groans and stumbles, falling back to the wall. Not to the ground, but the damage is clearly getting to her.

One of the fallen dunmer slowly get on his feet, putting the fight back on a level of five-on-one. Jollain is getting herself cornered and despite trying to hold back her enemies, injuring at least two rather gravely, she receives two more cuts as well – one on her arm and the other on her thigh. She is talented and dangerous, but get one good hit in, and her power subsides. She is not as enduring as she is agile and swift, which appears to be her greatest weakness. She’s fucked.

…or so most of them believe.  
This confidence shatters when a stream of ice erupts beneath them, freezing two dunmer into place on the ground, making them unable to move. Shortly after, a loud eruption of lightning shoots straight into a third, hitting them so hard that they fly straight into a wall, being knocked unconscious before they tumble to the ground.

The remaining dunmer all turn around to see what the hell just happened and that’s when they spot something unexpected. It’s the simple unassuming sight of a khajiit, wearing what appears to be a miner’s outfit.  
“Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I believe sera Jollain is quite uncomfortable at this time”, Vaziri tells them slowly and politely. “I would appreciate it if you step back and give her some room.  
Should you refuse, I might have to…”, she says and stops in order to prepare a fireball in her hand. “…get serious.”

This is mostly an intimidating tactic. She’s quite aware of the fact that unleashing a fireball at this range would be…unwise. The explosive effect of it would likely blast her too, and she has no interest in being fried. Hopefully, none of them are magically adept enough to realize this.  
Areval glares at her, more so out of frustration than anything else. His hand is clenching the dagger so hard that he might potentially squeeze it into a fine paste. Shortly after, he glances over his shoulder, towards Jollain who’s panting and resting against the wall.

“You got lucky this time, n’wah. Watch yourself when you don’t have friends coming to aid you. I will find you again.”

After they run off, helping each other out to quickly leave this corner, Vaziri deactivates the spell and then carefully approaches Jollain. Despite clutching the wound at her side and not being in the best condition, she doesn’t appear completely defeated. Vaziri has to admit that she admires such stubbornness.  
That said, Jollain looks even more surprised now than she did when she spotted Areval.

“What the-…Vaziri? What are you doing here?”

The khajiit displays a rather smug expression as she wanders closer.  
“Oh, simply conducting some business, as usual.”

“Here?”

“Indeed. Work takes me all over Vvardenfell, you know. There is always someone who requires my services.”

Jollain shuts her eyes.  
“…right.”

“Do not be concerned for yourself, though. I simply spotted you walking around earlier and it made me curious. I wished to see where you were going, maybe find out more about you.”

That makes Jollain look at her again, arching one of her eyebrows quite suspiciously.  
“What? You were…following me?”

“As I said, merely out of curiosity.”

“But…why?”

Vaziri smiles and shrugs.  
“You intrigue me, sera Jollain. To be honest, you are one of the few people capable of doing so in this land.”

Jollain’s gaze begins to search the area around them, seeing both her own and some of the dunmer’s dropped weapon, as well as the blood.  
“Not sure if I should be thankful or not.”

“Hah, well, I did save you from those thugs, did I not?”

“Yeah, true. Thanks.”

“I believe you might be in my debt now as well. It has been twice that I have aided you in combat, has it not?”

Jollain tries to steady her position, but has to breathe in sharply when the pain gets to her again.  
“Uh, yeah. I…I guess so.”

Scanning the bosmer’s stance, Vaziri comes to the conclusion that they likely can’t waste time here anymore.  
“I cannot do much for your wounds, in terms of magic. I’m not particularly knowledgeable about the restoration school.  
Fortunately, I do have some bandages. If you show me to your home, I can assist you.”

Jollain snorts.  
“My home, huh? Never thought I’d invite an assassin to my apartment.  
Guess I don’t have much choice. Help me out, and I’ll take you there.”


	26. Bonding with death

Well, this has to be the strangest night Jollain has experienced in a while.  
She had just finished a job for the Thieves Guild, which turned out to be way more complicated than she had initially presumed. Who knew that the Mages Guild in this region actually relies more on physical locking mechanisms than spells? Had she been told of this, she would’ve brought way more lockpicks and not so many enchanted scrolls.

After it was done, she headed home, but got ambushed by her girlfr-…good friend’s brother, who attempted to kill her. Again.  
Before things could go completely awry, though, she was somehow rescued by none other than Vaziri, who was ready to risk a lot in order to stop Areval and his lackeys, and in the end, all she asked in return was to help out and have a conversation with Jollain.  
What did she do to deserve all of this? Did she rub some god the wrong way this morning, or is she just extraordinary unlucky?

At any rate, that’s why she’s seated here next to the khajiit killer, as Vaziri attempts to clean her wounds, so that they can be properly bandaged. Despite being in pain over several places of her body, she does manage to stay awake. She’s sore, feels like shit and hungry after not having eaten for quite a few hours, but she surprises herself that she doesn’t just pass out.  
When was the last time she got injured to this degree? Has to have been back in the Imperial City, right? She remembers a pretty gruesome fight with the Imperial Watch about a year before she left that place. Luckily, she wasn’t stabbed this time. She has endured that too, and it’s not fun.

So, here she is, sitting in her home together with a member of the Morag Tong. If someone had told her that just a year ago, she would probably have laughed at them. Or gotten as far away as possible, to avoid receiving bad luck. Working for the Blades has really warped her understanding of reality and what is defined as ‘normal’. It’s not like she has ever had a boring farmer life, but she still isn’t sure that she can keep up.

“And there we are”, Vaziri tells her, once the bandaging process is over. “I believe that has covered all of your injured areas. It is probably wise if you remain seated here for now.”

Jollain lowers her gaze, seeing how her left arm, her abdomen and the upper section of her left leg are all covered up, to start the healing process. She’s pretty glad that she wasn’t hit in any vital areas, or ones that are difficult to hide.  
“Yeah, looks like it. Uh, thanks. Means a lot that you helped out.”

The dark grey-furred khajiit smiles at her briefly, which at least appears mostly genuine. Afterwards, she looks towards the area where Jollain keeps most of her cooking equipment.  
“I noticed that you have a kit to make tea. Shall I prepare some for you?”

Jollain glances in the same direction, briefly wondering how long Vaziri might’ve been thinking about it, but ignores this and shrugs.  
“Erm, not sure if I should call you my guest or not, but…since I’m still in pain, I would appreciate it, yeah.”

Vaziri doesn’t seem to mind that she has to do the work in here and gets to it almost immediately. For whatever reason, there’s something…amused to her expression, like she finds it funny that she gets to walk around and rummage through Jollain’s possessions. Is this due to how strange their meetings have been so far? Jollain would certainly understand, in that case. It’s not like their relations – if it’s even possible to use that term – is typical in any sense whatsoever.

During the process of lighting the fire – which she does with her own magic – and starting to boil some water, Vaziri continues speaking.  
“If you don’t mind, I would like to know what the fight was all about. You called that man by name, so obviously you were familiar with him.”

Jollain diverts her eyes towards a nearby wall, the inherent reluctance at this situation preventing her from answering too quickly. Would it be dangerous to say anything? This isn’t Vaziri’s business and it wouldn’t be fair to involve a complete stranger.  
Then again, she asked.  
“Uh, yeah, I am. He’s…with Camonna Tong. They’re not exactly fond of my kind.”

Vaziri looks towards her.  
“Bosmer or thieves?”, she asks with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Or were you perhaps referring to Legionnaires?”

It’s hard to tell what Jollain dislikes the most – the smug tone or the implications. Regardless, she frowns.  
“…I’m not with the Legion.”

“Interesting evasion.”

Jollain sighs and shakes her head.  
“Look, I know him because I’m involved with another Camonna member, someone called Tayerise. It’s his sister. We’ve been hanging out for a while and he hates me for it.”

“I suppose many men dislike when others date their sisters.”

Even if she feels stupid for letting it happen, Jollain can’t hide the blush that appears on her cheeks.  
“We’re…we’re not dating.”

“Oh. You said ‘involved’, which is why I assumed.”

“Yeah, but, I meant-“  
She stops when she realizes that she’s not exactly sure what she meant. Isn’t it true that her heart is telling her something completely different than reality?  
“Ugh. I dunno.  
Either way, he’s not a big fan of me, nor anything I do. He’s pretty determined about the fact that I stay away from his family, which you saw earlier.”

“So adamant that he would eagerly attempt to kill you to keep you away?”

Jollain shrugs nonchalantly, which might seem somewhat ridiculous. Few would do so regarding what happened today.  
“Eh, it’s not the first time. You heard about the big fight that broke out in Caldera? I was involved, and he tried the same thing over there. He even killed a bunch of other members from our Guild, which didn’t make the situation better.”

Vaziri nods slowly a few times in a contemplative manner. She considers what has been said, before she continues her queries.  
“What does his sister say about it?”

The bosmer takes a deep breath before she proceeds.  
“Well, as you might imagine, she’s not exactly pleased. Tay is…hard on herself, rather than blaming others. She feels bad about it, guilty because of the hate that her family hurls at me.”  
Images of Tay’s saddened expressions enter Jollain’s mind, and there’s a stinging sensation inside her chest. There’s something instinctive within her, which makes her want to stop Tay from ever having to feel that way.  
“If she heard about what happened tonight, I…I dunno what she’d do. She’d be devastated, I guess.”

“Hmm. ‘If’ she hears of it? It’s not a certainty?”

Jollain clears her throat and lowers her eyes.  
“Well…no. Not sure I wanna tell her. She already has enough to deal with and I don’t want to make her feel constantly anxious about my fight with Areval.”

In her peripheral vision, she notices how the khajiit surveys her.  
“And you do not think she will be somewhat suspicious of the fact that you have bandages all over your body?”

“Clothes will cover that up.”

“Not the limping, or any time your face contorts in pain. You do not seem to be an expert at hiding such emotions.”

Jollain exhales in slight frustration. She puts her elbow on the table and waves her hand dismissively.  
“Look, I’ll deal with it, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

The assassin stares at her for a few more moments, before she shrugs.  
“I will not. It is not my decision and I don’t wish to get involved. However, if you want to receive some advice, then I suggest not leaving your house at night from now on. At least not without company.”

“Mm, you’re probably right. Think I’m staying indoors for a while when the sun is down or ask Habasi to lend me an escort. Didn’t think it’d come to this and it kinda sucks that I’d have to ask for a guard to my own goddamn home but…”

“So, you will not call for Legion support, then?”, Vaziri asks, in a tone that practically sounds teasing.

This lady is having more fun with this situation than Jollain is comfortable with. She closes her eyes in response.  
“…that’s not funny.”

“Or perhaps you have other secret allies? The Dark Brotherhood seeks to aid you, maybe? Imperial spies? Are you a member of a Valenwood guild? There is a lot of potential that I can see here.”

It doesn’t take long for Jollain to open her eyes again and glare at Vaziri.  
“What do you want?”

“Have I not made that obvious? You are a mystery to me, Jollain. I want to solve you.”

Very slowly, Jollain raises one of her eyebrows.  
“Solve…me? You know that sounds really creepy, right?”

One end of Vaziri’s mouth curls something. She’s probably enjoying this even more.  
“I am a follower of Mephala. What did you expect?”

That’s not words she had anticipated, which is why Jollain widens her eyes.  
“…wait, really? You are?”

Vaziri snorts.  
“No. But it does sound more intimidating that way, does it not? Who does not fear a daedra worshipper?”

Jollain groans in mild frustration. Who is this lady? What is she doing here? Why won’t she stop teasing Jollain?  
The bosmer lowers her head to rest in the palm of her hand.  
“Why would Morag Tong be interested in me anyway? I’m just a thief who’s hurt, tired and hungry. A nobody, basically.”

“You are mistaken, sera. The Tong has nothing to do with this endeavor. I would instead call my efforts a simple self-indulgent inquiry. Like I’ve said, I find you of interest and I want to know more.”

“Why?”

“You have openly affiliated with the Thieves Guild on numerous occasions, but when we met in Vivec, you acted on behalf of the Imperial Legion. How do you explain that?”

She has a good point and Jollain hasn’t actually been thinking about how she would answer such an inquiry. Didn’t even tell members of her Guild what she was really doing, as she never thought it’d be required.  
“Uh, it…was a con?”

“I see. But then, in Sadrith Mora, you attacked a Legionnaire. He even ran from you, which was intriguing.”

“That guy wasn’t actually a Legionnaire.”

Vaziri tilts her head somewhat.  
“Really? Then who was he?”

Jollain opens her mouth slightly, but what is she supposed to say? She definitely can’t tell the truth, as that would not help this situation. It’s very implausible that he’d be with Camonna, and there are very few other groups in Vvardenfell that the Guild would feel threatened by. Maybe she shouldn’t have said he was not a member of the Legion. Could’ve told her that he owed them money.  
“…I can’t tell you”.

Okay, that was probably the least useful response she could’ve offered.  
It’s no surprise that Vaziri begins to smirk.  
“Can you see now why I am so very curious about the truth of what you really are, sera?”

Jollain’s shoulders slump and she lets her head hang down while she sighs.  
“Look, I understand that all this crap is probably very fascinating to someone on the outside, but I honestly can’t tell you what it’s about. I don’t know who you are, other than a killer, and that doesn’t give me much reason to spill the beans.”

“A fair point, but if you will not answer my questions, then I will simply keep searching. That serves no one, correct?”  
For now, Jollain doesn’t respond. If only this lady would get that it’s not going to be so easy…  
“Let me pose something simple to you then. Are you an actual member of the Thieves Guild?”

Struggling to maintain some kind of contact, Jollain faces Vaziri.  
“Well…yeah, I am.”

“Are you a member of the Imperial Legion?”

“Nope.”

“Are you affiliated with the Legion in any way?”

Thankfully, Jollain manages to stay composed as she briefly shakes her head.  
“Not that I know of.”

“And yet, you mentioned to Areval that you knew the Commander of a Fort. Moonmoth, I presume?”

…dammit. Why does she have to remember _all_ of the details? Is she an assassin or some kind of investigator? Perhaps they’re the same, in certain regards.  
“Ugh, fine. Okay, I’m a little bit associated with the Legion. It’s nothing direct, though. We’re not buddies.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

Since Vaziri is so adamant about the Legion connection, does that mean she wants something out of it? Jollain frowns and points at the other woman.  
“If you’re thinking of using me to your advantage, to gain some kind of favor from the Legion or whatever, then you’re screwed. Sorry, it won’t help, because they don’t care about me.”

Vaziri merely snickers.  
“You are mistaken, Jollain. I do not need anything from the Legion to get around Vvardenfell or most of the province of Morrowind. As a member of Morag Tong, my business is within the legal parameters of Morrowind’s judicial system.”

“Well, first of all, being legal doesn’t exactly get you into every place that you’d want to infiltrate, does it? So don’t try to tell me that the Legion wouldn’t be of use to you at all.  
Secondly, it’s still really creepy to me that you can kill whomever you wish. Just thought you should be aware.”

“A false assumption. I cannot kill whomever I want. I need a contract.”

“Which I assume can easily be signed.”

Vaziri leans back in her seat and folds her arms. She still keeps an eye on the kettle not too far from her.  
“No, not easily, but it can be done. Usually only by important or prestigious people, however.”

Jollain views her skeptically.  
“Uh, what? You gotta be a leader or something?”

“In a way. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.  
From the very beginning, the purpose of the Morag Tong has been to limit the deaths of the land, with strategically beneficial assassinations. When a dispute occurs that cannot be solved in any other way, they let the assassins deal with the various problematic targets that disrupt the order of society. Such actions remove any potential for war between the Great Houses.”  
She exhales briefly.  
“That is how it was supposed to be, anyway, but it obviously does not work perfectly. It is still possible for anyone with enough gold to hire us too, even for relatively minor reasons. I am not particularly comfortable with those assignments, but we will not turn them down, as we must serve our purpose. At least our presence within Morrowind has been a stabilizing factor and remains that way.”

It’s quite a strange way to look at it. Naturally, Jollain has heard of other assassin guilds, particularly the Dark Brotherhood. They seem more like mercenaries than legal executioners that adhere to strict principles. In fact, she has even heard that they can be quite gruesome.  
“So, why don’t you work everywhere in Tamriel?”

“Well, as you might imagine, not everyone shares this view. The Cyrodiilics certainly do not, as they abhor assassins. They see it as cowardly, and they also thrive on war. Hence why we have an Empire which rules the continent.”  
After she is done explaining, she raises a finger.  
“And I believe that is where my description ends. Do not think I don’t see that you are trying to distract me from the real issue here. I still want to know what you are up to.”

Jollain emits an annoyed groan.  
“I’m not ‘up to’ anything, okay? I just do some side business for the Guild, nothing else. Which, by the way, is none of your concern.”

“I see. Does this Maak-Veh do the same?”

And how did she find out his name? Well, he’s not exactly a hidden figure, so that's an issue.  
“What does he have to do with anything?”

“He was present the first time we met, and he seemed a lot more knowledgeable about the workings of Vvardenfell. Not a humble hunter like his job description says, is he?”

Yeah, she really has been snooping around. Jollain wonders if Vaziri realizes how much trouble she can get into. Sure, she’s part of the Morag Tong, but messing with the Emperor’s agents is deadly.  
“He’s…a contact with the Legion.”

“Is that so? I have not seen him on any roster. The only rumor I could find about him was his profession.”

“Yeah, because that’s all he wants you to know. He’s gotta stay low, so he can watch people.”

It is a good excuse and does help to hide the reality of the situation, but Vaziri still seems skeptical.  
“So, if I investigate it further, I will not find any mysterious clues? Any discrepancies?”

If there’s something Jollain doesn’t want to happen, it’s to have Vaziri begin to disturb Maak as well. This khajiit is her problem, and she realizes they’d both get into trouble if this gets worse.  
Jollain raises both hands in a somewhat defeated fashion.  
“Alright, look. I admit that I’m involved in some pretty weird shit. I’m not with the Legion, but the Guild isn’t my only avenue either. Unfortunately…I can’t tell you more than that. If I did, we might both be screwed.”

Vaziri’s eyes shimmer with interest, something that Jollain would’ve preferred to avoid, but it was inevitable.  
“Oh, I do _love_ a good mystery, and this is one of the best I’ve encountered in a while. You now have me at the edge of my seat.”

Jollain shakes her head.  
“Yeah well, it’s best if you don’t fall off. I mean, if you really have to know, you could torture me, I guess, but…”

Fortunately, Vaziri reacts to this suggestion by laughing.  
“Do not worry, sera. I don’t indulge myself in such crude activities. If you insist that it must remain a secret, I shall simply be a curious party. For now.  
I won’t dig any further into your background, but do not grow too relaxed due to this fact. Remember that you still owe me. One day, I might come to collect.”

She doesn’t receive the meagre response she might’ve expected, as Jollain snorts and shrugs.  
“Get in line. You’re not the first I owe favors to.”  
Eventually, it appears that the water is warm enough and Vaziri prepares the cup of tea she promised, which she sets down on the table next to the bosmer when she’s done. As she has the khajiit standing so close to her, Jollain surveys her with some fascination of her own.  
“You know, I’m curious about you too. Why are you with the Morag Tong? You don’t seem like the killer type.”

Vaziri turns her orange eyes to gaze straight into the brown pair next to her.  
“Do I not? I must admit that I perform my tasks quite eagerly.”

“Yeah, but…you don’t do everything to get more kills. You haven’t joined the Dark Brotherhood.”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

Jollain arches her brow skeptically.  
“Now who’s avoiding the truth?”

Her poking gestures appears to amuse Vaziri, who straightens her back and crosses her arms.  
“Let’s just say that there are some classes in Morrowind’s society who would love to get the chance to kill others.”

Not the type of response she had anticipated and Jollain doesn’t know if that’s an implication for what she’s thinking about, or if Vaziri is simply trying to throw her off.  
“Okay. Were you…a slave?”

Vaziri smiles and pats Jollain’s shoulder before she turns to leave in a gradual and quiet manner.  
“Good night, sera Jollain.”


	27. Affection through flickering shadows

It took about a week. That’s how long Jollain managed to effectively hide the truth of what she suffered, to let no one else know, except those who had already seen it. It’s not like she expected for this to last forever or anything, even if some small hope might’ve lingered inside her heart, telling her that she could potentially recover before it becomes a rumor.  
Unfortunately, it was never going to be that easy.

When she hears the knocks on the door this day, Jollain can almost feel it somewhere in her gut. The difficulty of these events was coming and there is just no way to avoid it anymore. The speed and pace of them are not just adamant but practically panicked in a way. Jollain has to sigh to herself almost immediately, knowing what it’s going to be about. Who else could it be that would come to her door at this hour, with such emotions involved? No one else would care.

As she opens the door, it almost flings right back into her face, as the wind outside is so fierce today that she can’t quite stand properly. Tayerise has to help her fight against it and keep it open.  
“Tay?”, she asks. “What are you doing out here? You shouldn’t be outside right now.”

The dunmer looks at her with determination, but other emotions hide beneath.  
“It doesn’t matter”, she tells Jollain, before she lowers her eyes. As she begins to survey the other woman, her expression grows gradually more devastated.  
“I…”

And that’s all she manages, before she hesitates. Guilt, that’s what Jollain can see as well. Dammit, she knew this would happen.  
“What’s wrong?”

Tay stares back at the brown eyes once more.  
“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?! You…you were…”  
She shuts her gaze and sighs.  
“Almalexia have mercy…I’m so sorry, Jollain.”

And here she goes, apologizing immediately. It doesn’t come as a surprise, but Jollain hates it. Why does she have to be like this?  
“Tay…”

The dunmer raises her hand to interrupt her.  
“No, wait, please. Allow me to speak first. I have to do this.”

“Tay, you can’t-“

“I didn’t know about this, Jollain. I didn’t know that he…”  
She sighs and runs a hand up to her nose, have to pinch it out of frustration.  
“…ancestors, I’m so very sorry. This isn’t what I wanted at all. Why will he never understand?”

From one perspective, it’s very sweet that Tay is so upset by this - she cares so much that she almost breaks. However, that doesn’t make this situation any easier.  
“Listen-“

“Jollain, I swear, I never told any of them to do this, especially not him.  
I mean, I didn’t intend to-“

“Tay, goddammit, will you listen?! I can hardly hear you out here! Come inside!”

The dunmer widens her eyes when she looks at Jollain again.  
“What? But…after all you’ve gone through…”

Jollain rolls her eyes. Does Tay really think she’s that vulnerable?  
“Do you see how small I am? This fucking wind is so fierce that I’m about to blow away unless we close this door right now!”

A little bit of an exaggeration, obviously, but it is true that she still has problems keeping it open, even with the help.  
Despite her reluctance, Tay does nod in agreement.  
“Fine. Let me help you with the door.”

It seems the wind is against them as well, as it changes direction when they try to enter the apartment, practically dragging the door open once more. Using her far superior strength, Tay aids Jollain with shutting it behind them, both closing and locking it efficiently.  
Once it’s done, Jollain leans against the door, which is still vibrating somewhat due to the wind continuously hitting it.  
“Damn, getting a sudden storm like this is so annoying. I had hoped to go for a walk later or something, but that’s not gonna happen now.”

When she looks back up towards Tay’s face, sadly, the dunmer is not in the mood for any light-hearted gestures. She seems even more uncertain now that she has the chance to talk properly.  
“I think we have more pressing concerns.”

Jollain folds her arms and snorts.  
“I don’t see what that would be.”

“Jollain, you…you weren’t even able to close that door on your own.”

“…it was windy.”  
A clear distraction, which they both know, but she continues, hoping Tay won’t question it. She diverts her gaze to the table and begins to move towards it.  
“So…want some tea?”

“No. I can’t drink anything, not right now.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m gonna have-“  
Before she gets anywhere, she hears a slight thud behind her, which obviously gets her attention. She believes she knows the origin of the noise, but she chooses to turn around anyway. It seems to be even worse, since Tay is actively kneeling on the floor, her head lowered.  
“…Tay?”

“Please, Jollain…I beg you to forgive me.”

Jollain actually looks shocked. Sure, she has been lying regarding her knowledge of what this is about, but such an action seems kinda drastic.  
“What?”

“I promise that I never heard about what was going to happen, and I didn’t know that he was…”  
She can’t even speak of the events during the incident, being too saddened by it all. Her brother betrayed her.  
“I’m sorry…”

This is kinda stupid, at least to Jollain. Why did she know this would occur somehow? Tay takes these things so seriously, but maybe that’s justified. It wasn’t just an argument, but an actual fight. He did try to kill her.  
“Tay…c’mon, this wasn’t your fault. I’ve already told you that-“

“No. I invited him into your life.”

“What? That’s not even true and you know it. We met in Caldera by accident.”

“Yes, but if you had never befriended me, you’d never get hurt.”

Quite a statement and one that isn’t technically true. Maybe Areval wouldn’t have gone after her so passionately, but there are always others.  
“Tay, get up from the floor. It’s starting to look ridiculous. If we’re gonna talk about this, let’s talk, face to face.”  
The dunmer gives in to this suggestion and chooses to rise from her position, so that they can look at each other. The pain in her eyes is still very obvious for anyone to see. Why does she have to be so sweet and compassionate? Melts Jollain’s heart every time.  
“There’s nothing to worry about, okay? Nothing happened.”

Tay furrows her brow very skeptically.  
“Is that so?”

The warrior is a very gentle and shy soul, Jollain knows that much, but it appears this situation can make even her be brave. She strides right up to Jollain and then manages to pull up the bosmer’s shirt. Not by much, but enough so that her stomach is visible.  
“Hey!”

“Then what are these bandages?”, she asks while indicating at them with her hand. “Where did you get these wounds from?”

With an annoyed groan, Jollain pushes Tay’s hand away and corrects her shirt. Simultaneously, her eyes are diverted in uncertainty.  
“I…got hurt on the job. It was more complicated than I had expected.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“Well…I mean, not exactly. I was on my way home from work, so it’s partially true.”

Tay’s shoulders slump and she exhales heavily, in both defeat and sorrow.  
“You don’t have to lie for him. It’s obvious what happened, who would do this to you. You can’t deny it, because I’ve already heard the rumors.  
I failed you. I was supposed to protect you from this, but I didn’t. If it wasn’t for me, so much bad shit wouldn’t be happening in your life.”

“Now who’s bullshitting? C’mon, you know that’s not true.”

“But it is, though. Haven’t you seen what’s been going on? And which idiot was it that pushed for this interaction to happen to begin with? It was me. I’m the one who came back here after our first confrontation, when I clearly shouldn’t have.”

Their first friendly encounter. Feels like years ago now, but technically it was less than one. At least several months, which is still something.  
“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You came back because you wanted to apologize. You know how rare that is in this shitty world? I was flattered.”

“And then the descent began.”

Jollain shakes her head and tries to come closer to Tay, hoping to lock their eyes together again, but it’s hard for the warrior to accept it. She’s too ashamed.  
“What descent? Seriously, my life has only gotten better because of you.”

That is enough for Tay to at least stare skeptically at her.  
“Jollain, you could’ve _died_. Because of my stupid brother and his idiotic opinions. How is that better?”

“You think that’s everything that has happened to me during all these months? That it’s all I think about? Our friendship is more than that, Tay. You mean a lot to me.”

Even if it was clearly meant as a compliment, to make Tay understand how important their interactions are, the dunmer looks distant at this time.  
“I…hadn’t seen it before. Or maybe I had and just didn’t want to believe it, but it’s clear to me now. I am the burden in your life. I’m literally causing you pain.”

Jollain’s eyes move back and forth as she looks intently at Tay, searching her face, trying to predict where she’s going.  
“What are you talking about?”

“If it isn’t my brother, then it’s Camonna, my father, or any other underworld crap. If I wasn’t here, you could live a normal life.”

“…oh c’mon. Are you even listening to yourself? I’m in the Thieves Guild.”

“Yes, but you were associated with them in the capital, weren’t you? Was it ever this bad back then?”

Obviously not, but her real situation was very dissimilar during those years. Her…associations are different now.  
“No, but…that’s not your fault.”

“Don’t you see? It is. _I_ am the problem here, that one aspect which changes everything. I am that which causes you pain, whether intentionally or not.  
And I…I can’t do it anymore. I can’t let you be consumed because of my selfish desires."

Okay, this is starting to sound very unnerving and final.  
“Wait, what’s going on? What do you mean?”

Tay takes a deep breath, and despite the sadness, she’s gaining a certain resolve.  
“It’s obvious to me what must be done. I need to get out of your life, to protect you.”

“…Tay, don’t be stupid. That’s crazy! I don’t even know what I’d do without you.”

For the last minute or so, Tay has practically been speaking to herself, but she now lets her eyes return to the woman that means so much to her. She seems guilty and apologetic.  
“It’s not like I want this, but I have to do it. I care for you too much to let anything happen to you.”

“…listen to yourself, dammit! You’re going to protect me by leaving my side?”

“It’s the only thing I can do! With me here, you’ll be miserable forever, or even more likely, _dead_. I will not allow that to happen.”

Jollain isn’t sure whether she wants to cry or be furious right now. Perhaps both, and this is heard in her voice.  
“Tay, you…you can’t…”

“I’m sorry, Jollain. I have to do what’s best for you. I’ll make sure they never touch you again.”

After she’s done, Tay attempts to leave through the door and potentially never look back. She is already trying to steel herself for this outcome, no matter how much it hurts her. Her feelings are too strong for this woman to give in, though.  
Fortunately, she never gets very far. Before she can do anything foolish, Jollain uses whatever strength she can muster in order to tackle Tay right into the door, so that she can’t grab the handle.

When Tay turns around to protest, to explain that these actions are futile, Jollain manages to act before her. The bosmer grabs the front of her shirt and makes her bend down. Shortly after, their lips connect, as Jollain literally shuts Tay up with a kiss, pushing herself as close as she possibly can.  
The act, the sensations and the touch are all too much for Tay, shocking her into silence and preventing her body from moving.

To begin with, Tay doesn’t know what she wants or what she should do. She stands still for the first few moments, merely remaining on the receiving end. Soon after, she starts to fumble with her hands, afraid that she’s going to hurt Jollain in some fashion, since she’s actively injured. It doesn’t take long until she runs one hand down the thief’s back, though, caressing it gently. Despite having felt that she should run away, she can’t do so anymore. This is too enjoyable.

For Jollain’s part, she never realized how much she wanted it, how much she _craved_ this, until the union actually happens. She feels physically relieved to be standing like this, to finally have the beautiful and amazing dunmer in her hands. They’ve both been avoiding this conclusion for too long, the inevitability of that they belong together. That it took such a harrowing situation to actually make it happen is kinda sad, but it doesn’t matter. The pain virtually seeps out of her and she only cares about Tay.

After they eventually stop and part their lips, in order to get some air, their eyes flutter open. Red meets brown in a much calmer sense than either anticipated.  
“You get it now?”, Jollain asks softly. “I’m not angry at you and I definitely don’t want you to go. I…I need you, Tay.”

Tay is way too overwhelmed by everything that happened, definitely too much to protest. Her face is warm, and not just due to having Jollain’s body heat on her - some of that shyness has returned. She got way too caught up in what she has always wanted.  
“I…that was…”

“Hot?”

“…very.”

Jollain giggles, but she’s not about to leave just yet. She pulls Tay down again, but the next kiss is more tender and smoother. This time, Tay actually manages to return it too, following the motions as best as she can, even if she’s a little awkward. Jollain’s lips are much softer, just like her body, and very satisfying to embrace. As she has never had the chance to do it properly before, Tay can’t help herself when she lets her hands stroke further down, letting her fingers gently touch places that make her literally shiver out of excitement. Jollain is a lovely woman.

After they separate for a second time, albeit still remaining in each other’s arms, Jollain feels how clarity comes over her. There has always been a tension between them, not just romantically, but the fact that she had to keep secrets. Maybe that was a mistake.  
“You’re wrong, Tay. You’re not the one hurting me, and it’s not your fault that my life is so fucked up.”

It’s a shame that they had to come back to this topic so quickly, which certainly appears to be Tay’s opinion, but she lets it continue.  
“What are you trying to say?”

“I wanna tell you something that I probably should’ve said months ago.  
I’m not in Vvardenfell because I wanted to join the Thieves Guild, nor did I flee from anything specific in the Imperial City.”

“No?”

“Well…I mean I was in prison, but that has happened before. I could get out of it eventually and continue my crappy life in that city if that’s what I preferred.”

Tay furrows her brow once more, but this time out of confusion.  
“What do you mean? Why are you here then?”

Jollain opens her mouth, but the words do not come hurtling out in the speed she would prefer.  
“Damn. It’s still hard to say it, you know? I’ve had to keep it hidden, afraid of what might happen otherwise. But, it’s because I trust you that I tell you this now.”

“Hmm. You mean that you’re an informant for the Legion? I sort of figured that out already.”

Well, at least she’s not stupid, but Jollain knew that already. It’s why she chuckles now.  
“If only it was that simple…”  
Jollain raises her gaze and looks directly into the eyes of the woman she loves.  
“I’m a spy, Tay.”

It takes a few seconds for the sentence to register in Tay’s head, and she starts to look really confused.  
“I…don’t get it. A spy for what?

“The Emperor, of course.”

Tay widens her eyes to begin with, but then shakes her head and snorts.  
“What? That’s…ridiculous. You can’t be serious.”

Jollain increases the gravity of the expression she offers the dunmer.  
“I’m not messing around, Tay. I’m a member of an organization called “the Blades”. We’re a group of imperial spies that watches pretty much every province, even Morrowind. Personally, I belong to the Vvardenfell section specifically.  
How do you think that I knew Legate Svalen so well after being here for less than a year? Why do you think I got an apartment so quickly? Why would I, a member of the local Thieves Guild in Balmora, constantly travel around a lot? Why do you think I investigated the murder of some random dead dunmer? Why do you think I asked about the Sixth House, when I’m not one of the Guild’s leaders? Where do you believe I get all my resources and information from regarding places that I really shouldn’t know?”

Tay’s eyes dart back and forth as she considers every angle, realizing that it does all sound kinda suspicious.  
“I…hadn’t thought about this.”

“I’m a spy, Tay. That’s why I constantly get into trouble. You are not the danger in my life - it’s my job, sadly.”

It’s quite a revelation, and every word is spoken with a serious tone, but Tay still appears somewhat skeptical.  
“You realize that this is a lot to accept, right?”

Jollain lifts her hand to caress Tay’s cheek.  
“I know, but I ask you to trust me. Why would I lie now after all that has happened?”

“I…I do want to, but…  
I mean, if this job is so dangerous, then why do it?”

Yeah, that’s the tough question, isn’t it? Some days, Jollain doesn’t know why she doesn’t just flee. Well, probably because they’d simply find her again.  
“Because it was our deal. I’m obligated to do it. And, well, honestly, it’s a way better life than what I had before. None of the backstory I’ve told you is untrue. I did live in the crappiest section of the capital, constantly on the verge of total collapse.  
I have no idea why the agents took an interest in me, but they did and offered me this position in a new place. I took it and I’m doing the best I can.”

Tay lifts one of her arms and scratches her back of her own head.  
“I don’t know if I should be relieved or not to hear that it’s not technically my fault. Seeing how much you have to endanger yourself, though, I…I don’t know.  
If this is really the case, then why are you telling me the truth now? They must have told you to keep this secret.”

Jollain awkwardly clears her throat.  
“Heh, yeah, they have. If you tell anyone, well, they might come after us both for it.  
That said, I'm letting you know because I’m tired of keeping secrets between us. I…care about you, Tay - a lot. You dunno how guilty I’ve felt about lying all this time, to give you some excuse why I had to go to Sadrith Mora, why I’m curious of the Sixth House, certain jobs I have to perform for the Guild. All this shit is because of my actual job.”  
She lowers one of her hands, wrapping it around Tay’s and squeezes it gently, while looking down at this specific union.  
“I just want one person that I can trust completely, one who knows my secrets and that I can confide in.” She redirects her sight up to Tay’s face again. “You are that person, just like I am yours.”

It appears that Tay suddenly realizes the importance of it now, what they mean to each other. Perhaps their connection never was a simple friendship, but something more. It’s impossible to ignore how their lives have merged.  
She wraps arms around the thief, her beloved little spy, and holds her close.  
“I will do everything for you, Jollain and I promise I shall never reveal this secret, not even at the threat of death.”

Jollain smiles, feeling safe in these strong arms. She has always done, but right now, she can do so with less guilt.  
“I know, Tay. Because you’re the best.”

“I disagree. Not while you’re alive.”

She gets the bosmer to giggle somewhat shyly, before Jollain grabs the top of her shirt once more.  
“…stop. You’re making me wanna give you another.”

Tay mirrors Jollain’s expression, but in a slightly more excited fashion.  
“…good. It would probably be kinda pathetic if I begged for it.”

For a third time today, their bodies and minds become linked in an intimate collision, as warmth and affection flow between them. Jollain feels that enough words have been spoken for now and therefore pulls Tay further into the apartment. She’s not going to leave it for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, this has taken a little while, but it was mostly because Jollain preferred to wait until she was sure Tayerise wanted to, and Tay was obviously held back by her family's wishes._   
>  _And yes, it IS a stupid idea to tell Tay about the Blades, but...ya know. My characters do stupid shit_


	28. Fresh perspectives

Happiness and relief. Jollain doesn’t know how long it’s been since those emotions were familiar to her. Not just the brief joy from a fun event, but actually letting them enter her being and imprint themselves onto her soul. It’s a marvelous sensation, despite their likely temporary nature.  
The preparations took a few weeks, as Tayerise gradually tried to convince her local bosses what she was going to do and to let her go. She was never really a full member of the Tong, so it wasn’t overly difficult.

At the same time, Jollain did her best to help out, speaking to members of the Fighters Guild that she knew, in order to make them accept the idea of letting a former Camonna member join, who was tired of all the bullshit and just wanted to make money doing mercenary jobs. They did require her to perform a few tests, to see if she was actually good enough material for the local Guild in Balmora, but thankfully, she impressed them all. Her results were so high that they eagerly accepted her, making Jollain very proud. The only thing left to do was to relay the news to the right ears.

Jollain wasn’t really sure if she’d ever get to visit her girlfriend’s family farm again. It’s not like she longed for the opportunity on a personal level, but she knew that the next time she did, it would be to free her friend from any burdens.  
It’s daytime when they arrive, somewhere around noon. Compared to last time, they already find Uryne on the outside, currently feeding the guar. The reptiles seem quite happy to be hanging out with her, being comfortable in her presence.

Uryne herself is smiling at the time of their approach, but this expression disperses as soon as she hears the sound of footsteps on the ground and spots the pair.  
“Tayerise? And…Jollain, I see”, she says, hesitation clear in her voice. “I wasn’t sure if we would have you as a guest here again.”

Jollain offers the short dunmer a smile in return.  
“Well, my last visit was so ‘illuminating’ that I had to come back for another go.”

Uryne glances at her daughter, but Tay doesn’t show or say much else.  
“I see. Well, I’m obviously glad that we get to meet each other once more, as you seem like a very fine young woman, but…was it not problematic when you met my husband? I don’t want any more fights in our home.”

Surprising her even more, Jollain merely chuckles.  
“Don’t worry about that. It’s not a concern anymore. Tay and I are just here to deliver some news to him.”

At the same time, Tay actually displays a bit of resolve, which is quite a development after her abundance of uncertainty last time.  
“Everything will be fine, mother. You don’t have to fear any confrontations from now on.”

Is that a good or a bad thing? Uryne doesn’t know what to make of it and therefore doesn’t immediately respond.  
Jollain takes this opportunity to approach the fence and the guar. Apparently, they recognize her and several of them immediately hurries up to her, putting their snouts in her direction. One or two even extends their tongues, wanting to lick her. It makes Jollain giggle.

“Already wanting to give me a kiss, huh? I remember what you little rascals were like last time, so I actually brought something extra with me.”  
She lifts off a bag from her shoulder and pulls out a pouch from it, where she has some dried meat and fruits inside.  
“Interested in some snacks, hmm?”

If they were merely happy before, the guar’s eyes now widen with interest or even excitement as they see the food held up in front of them. Uryne glances towards her and blinks confusedly.  
“Wait, how did you know what guar like?”

“Heh, I don’t. It was Tay who helped me pick this stuff out. Said they eat all kinds of food, but these things should be nice for them to chew on. Mind if I feed them?”

“Oh, no, not at all. Go ahead.”

Jollain decides to jump over the fence and then convinces them to pursue her. Practically the whole herd follows her around, and she makes sure that they listen before she gives each of them a snack to gnaw on. If her intent was to make them like her even more, it appears she has succeeded, for they now push themselves eagerly against her or lie down at her feet. When she tries to hug them, most of them accept it as well.

Despite her uncertainty with this visit, Uryne still smiles as she watches their interaction.  
“I don’t know what to think. Seems our herd has accepted you among them. I don’t believe they’ll want you to leave now.”

Jollain laughs.  
“Well, as fun as it’d be to stay with them for a while, I do actually have more important stuff that needs to be completed. Maybe I can come back later, though.”

She spends a few more minutes with the guar, kisses a few heads and scratches their scales, before she finally gets back up and jumps to Tay’s side.  
When the duo steps inside the house this time, Falsabit is not actually working, but standing by the cooking pot instead. He’s preparing some type of stew and they can therefore see him with the wooden leg on, as well as his cane not too far away.

He glances up momentarily, not having thought that they’d get guests, which means he has to go for a double take before he starts to frown. This time, he seems more tired than simply angry, though.  
“You don’t give up, do you? I suppose I was expecting to see you here again at some point.”

Jollain smirks confidently and places her hands at her hips.  
“Yeah, surrendering to someone, when I know I’m right, isn’t really my thing. But hey, don’t look so glum, old man. We actually have good news this time.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

Not wanting to have all the fun herself, Jollain turns to look at Tay. The warrior is currently standing in her armor, with the axe on her back. The journey here from Balmora takes a little while and it’s always preferable to be appropriately equipped, just in case.  
Tay has to take a deep breath before she begins. Jollain is at least pleased that she seems braver than their last encounter. She was practically on the verge of giving up at that point.

“Father, we came here because you need to know that I have left Camonna.”

Falsabit had already stopped turning the ladle around, but now he actually drops it on the floor out of shock.  
“L-left them?”

“Yes, father.”

“Why?!”

Tay shrugs. Not all too casually, but enough to prove that she isn’t deterred by his shout.  
“My reasons should be obvious. Jollain and I explained during our last visit and since then, I have not stopped believing that she was right.  
Camonna causes too much damage to both of us, to our society as a whole, and I am tired of doing their bidding. I want a fresh start, something I can never have with them.”

Falsabit looks at her in disbelief, slowly shaking his head.  
“No, you can’t…you can’t be serious. You’re just giving up?”

“Of course not. I have already signed up with the Fighters Guild.

“You…you joined up with those imperial bastards?!”

Tay sighs and glances at her girlfriend. Jollain shows her a smile and a small shrug. It’s not like they expected a different reaction. Tay would probably prefer to hand over the conversation to the bosmer, but she knows that she needs to do this on her own.  
“They’re not all imperials, father – quite the opposite. I’ve already met several of them and there are many types from all races of Tamriel, dunmer included. Their leader isn’t even from Cyrodiil, but a nord.  
They are warriors, soldiers and guards, father. All they’re here to do is perform their jobs, the same kind that I’m pretty good at. And best of all, they pay fairly well too. Some of their tougher assignments are much better than I ever had in Camonna.”

Falsabit grabs the cane resting pretty close to him and takes a few steps away from the boiling pot.  
“Do you think I care about that?! If this is what you want to be a part of, why don’t you just start licking the Legion’s boots too!?”

No surprise appears on Tay’s face as she raises a hand to rub the bridge of her nose.  
“I knew you would say this, father, that you’d be furious. Your yelling doesn’t mean that I’ll give in, as I have made my decision.  
Before you start accusing me of abandoning you again, let me tell you that I don’t intend to. We are still family and I will continue to provide regular payments just like before, from whatever job I receive in this service.”

It’s not that difficult to see how shocked Falsabit is, perhaps even overwhelmed. It’s not just the news itself that makes him reluctant, but the fact that she speaks with such conviction and finality. This isn’t a debate, it’s a simply a reality she’s telling him of. He is not done, though.  
“And you believe that I’m just going to take imperial coins without question?”

“That’s up to you. If you don’t, then I’m sure mother will. Either way, I will get you the drakes you need.”

These words might actually be the most defiant thing she has ever said to him and he doesn’t even know what’s going on. Usually, there is compromise, doubt and a little bit of surrender, no matter what she wants. Can he even be sure that this is his daughter?  
Trying to retain some of his fire, he glares at her.  
“I should throw you out for this.”

Perhaps he should, but will he?  
Either way, Tay shrugs once more.  
“Do it, then.”

“How…how can you just say that?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Tay slowly starts to pace around the area where she was standing, diverting her eyes to the walls nearby.  
“I’m tired, father. I’m tired of constantly bickering with you, of hearing all the crap that I don’t agree with, of being torn between what I want and what is expected of me.  
I don’t wish to fight with you regarding what either of us believe is for the best or about the situation in Morrowind, but I do still want to go my own way. This is why I have determined that I can no longer stay here, nor am I going to continue living in this house. I can’t handle it.”

He doesn’t quite seem to understand her and tries to maintain eye contact with her, but she won’t let him.  
“Then where will you go? You prefer the streets over staying with me?”

“No, I don’t, but I’ve made other arrangements.”  
She gestures at the bosmer.  
“Jollain has an apartment in Balmora and she offered me the chance to live with her for a while. I accepted. It’s not all too far away from the farm, so I can still come for visits, if I’m allowed to.”

“You…you’re staying with _her?”_ , he asks loudly and points at Jollain. He almost seems frustrated. “But…why would you want to be around someone like that?”

Tay stops and finally gazes at him again, but only so that she can glare.  
“She’s not just ‘someone like that’, father. She’s important to me.”

Falsabit exhales, both in irritation and exhaustion.  
“Yes, yes, you already explained that she’s your friend, or whatever you want to call her.”

“Well, I was wrong. She’s more than that.”

His expression changes from annoyance to suspicion.  
“…more?”

“Yes. I, uh…I was-  
…we’ve-…”

Apparently, this is a little harder for her than she expected. She was strong as steel a second ago, but as soon as emotions like these join the mix, she becomes very flustered. Jollain giggles and decides to help out.  
“We’re together, old man. I’m her girlfriend.”

That particular word stuns him more than anything else; more than leaving Camonna, more than joining the Fighters Guild, more than moving out of the house. He becomes so overwhelmed that he has to sit down in a nearby chair.  
“Girl…friend?”

Tay rolls her eyes and looks skeptically at Jollain.  
“Do you have to be so blunt about these things? I don’t wish to give him a heart attack.”

Jollain smirks back at her.  
“Ah, c’mon. It’s why you love me, cutie.”

Technically, Tay can’t argue with that, even if she wants to.  
“Well, she’s right. I never told anyone before, not even Jollain, but my emotions were pretty clear to me already from the start. I fell in love with her early on in our friendship, due to all the things she did for me and for who she is.  
Maybe you see nothing more than a bosmer, father, but Jollain is amazing. She’s brave, smart, gentle, strong-…well, mentally, anyway.”

“…hey! Just because I can’t lift an entire mountain like you, that doesn’t mean I’m not strong!”

Tay smiles at her lovingly, and Jollain rolls her eyes.  
“Anyway, she’s been so good to me, accepted me into her life faster than anyone else ever has. When I was in need, she didn’t hesitate and immediately helped me out. I care for her immensely, perhaps more than myself.”

After having been silent for a little while, Falsabit finally speaks up again. His voice is weaker than before.  
“…more than your own family?”

The joyful notions disperse briefly, and she looks at him skeptically. He doesn’t seem entirely angry, just…confused and perhaps somewhat abandoned.  
“I already explained to you that this is not what it’s about. You know it’s not true, father, but I guess you don’t care.  
How much have I done for this family? How many years, tears, sweat and blood have I not sacrificed in order to help you, mother or Areval, even when I barely knew what I truly wanted? No matter what you say, I love you, father. I love mother and I love Areval…but I will not stand for or defend anyone’s prejudice.  
I want to help you, to let you live as good of a life as you possibly can, despite your disabilities and I will continue to support you with resources. However, I will not let you ruin my life in the process. I want to be with Jollain and if you can’t accept that…then I’ll go. If you don’t wish for me to ever come back again, then I won’t. These are the only options that I can offer.”

In the past, Falsabit has used these aspects to threaten Tay with, told her what he’s ready to do in order to keep her on the ‘right’ path, no matter how wrong it might be. It had worked to make her follow their wishes, to not stray too far from their beliefs.  
However, he had not expected that she would ever be the one to actually confront this issue on her own, to force it and choose her own path. Now she has basically put it in his court, for him to decide what he wants, and she has all the power. Well, at least she has some self-determination, and she owes a lot of it to Jollain.

It doesn’t surprise either of them that he doesn’t look particularly happy, but now that he has been confronted, there is little he can do to change their minds.  
His shoulders slump and he rest his arms on his legs.  
“Fine. Go.”

Tay stares at him to begin with, not quite sure what she had expected. This is new territory for both of them.  
Jollain, on the other hand, frowns.  
“Just like last time, huh? You’re very quick to dismiss some pretty fucking major issues. Don’t you care about your kid?”

Falsabit shakes his head.  
“You misunderstand. I’m not saying I want her to leave – that was never my wish.”

“Uh, what? That’s not true. Tay has told me about your threats several times.”

“Yes, but that is all they were – words. I never actually intended to throw her out. How could I? She’s my daughter.”  
He lower his gaze to the floor.  
“I used such methods, because I didn’t want her to make mistakes. I hate imperials, Jollain, and I still don’t know if any outlander can ever be trusted. I don’t want her to go…but if that is what she wants, how am I going to stop her?”

Tay watches him thoughtfully, not entirely certain what to make of his words. They do sound genuine, but he has never seemed to hesitate in this regard before. Then again, it never actually got close to reaching the brink, of becoming reality. Until now, of course.  
“So, you’re…fine with this?”

“No, I’m not, but…” He raises his eyes, glances briefly at Jollain, and then towards his daughter. “Your friend was right.”

Jollain snorts and folds her arms.  
“About time you admitted it.  
…uh, what was I right about?”

“Areval. And…Camonna.” He shuts his eyes and runs a hand through his hair in a weary fashion.  
“I didn’t want to say it last time you were here, but you are right. They are despicable, criminals and murders. They don’t care for Morrowind and dunmer, not really. They care about their business and dominance.  
I already lost my son to them and I doubt I can ever get him back. He chose this path willingly and he enjoys it. I had hoped you would go a different route, Tayerise, as the older sibling. I knew you had wisdom and heart, like none in this family.”  
He continues to gaze at her, looking into her eyes.  
“I was so proud of you the first time I saw you swing your weapon around, of the might you displayed. I hoped you could get into one of the House Guards, bring honor and pride into our family. But…that was only a foolish dream. They knew we were Ashlanders and don’t want our ilk among them.”

Some sorrow enters Tay’s eyes.  
“I’m sorry, father.”

He waves his hand to dismiss it.  
“Don’t be. It was never your fault, but prejudice met with prejudice.  
I won’t ignore my opinion and past with the imperials, nor my distrust of this ‘Fighters Guild’…but if you think you can build a life there, I won’t stop you. They are, admittedly, better than Camonna. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Despite the previous hostility and the words he flung at them earlier, Tay now smiles at him and moves up to his position. She offers her hand to him.  
“I do, father. This is the right path, trust me.”

Falsabit isn’t really much for affection, but when she offers, he can’t deny her. He takes the hand, rises to his feet and accepts the hug she gives him. He does kinda disappear into her, due to being both shorter and smaller.  
“…I do, my dear. I trust you more than I do most other people.”  
After they part from each other, he turns his eyes towards Jollain. He surveys her thoroughly and in response to this, she attempts to show some fierceness, that she won’t back down.  
“You better protect my daughter over there. Make sure she’s safe and content.”

They’re not exactly friends now, but she’s glad he’s willing to acknowledge when he’s wrong.  
“I will. Didn’t lie last time, you know – I’ll do anything for Tay. I love her and she will have everything I can give her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's a kinda...semi-happy conclusion, I guess? I mean it's not the ideal situation, but certainly better than nothing. There'll be more family trouble in the second fic, especially with Areval._   
> 


	29. Another sword

It’s the late in the evening as they wander out onto the streets, traversing the back alleys, slipping past unseen corners and avoiding the majority of the light emanating from the two moons. It’s appropriate in a way, that the descent into the darker corners of Morrowind’s society is also done during this time, heralding the change in her life that she will have to accept. She’s not entirely certain if she feels confident in this decision or not yet, but it is the path she has chosen.

It has been silent during this trip for the most part, which she doesn’t find particularly surprising. Tayerise has been studying Jollain and Maak-Veh, who walk on either side of her. Neither of them looks ridiculously tense, but it’s pretty clear that they’re still both on alert. It is impressive how casually they check their surroundings, making every brief glance into the next alley or passage seem like they aren’t watching for potential followers at all, but merely acting bored or tired. Sometimes they angle their necks as if to stretch them or purposefully stumble on their own feet, to get a glimpse ahead. They’ve obviously done this before.

Once they finally arrive at the correct door, they stop for a few seconds, absorbing the moment. Maak glances at Tay, before he turns to look at Jollain.  
“You’re completely sure you want to do this?”, he asks quietly.

Jollain folds her arms and faces him fully.  
“Well, I dunno. Will you have my back or not?”

Maak exhales through his nose and then raises a hand to scratch the scales under his chin.  
“I will…but I hope you know what this will mean. Both of you.”

“Pretty sure we do”, she claims, before directing her eyes to her partner.  
“Tay?”

The dunmer nods sharply.  
“I have already decided that I will do all I can. I know what’s at stake here and I am not ready to back down.”

They can see a very slight shake of the argonian’s head.  
“Somehow, I doubt that, but I shall trust Jollain’s judgement in this regard. In the end, it’s not up to me.”

He knocks on the door, using a very specifically coded pattern. They wait a few seconds, before they hear a solemn voice inside.  
“Enter.”

When they pass through the door, Maak is the last to follow, using all of his senses to view the surrounding territory, before he walks after the ladies and closes the door behind him.  
Having heard correct type of knocks, Caius is already waiting by his table. He’s sitting there, shirtless and with a grumpy exterior, staring at them skeptically. It appears that he’s wearing his skooma addict personality, which they had somewhat expected, due to the company the two agents brought with them.

“So, what do you three want, huh? A bottle? You’ll have to come back in the morning for anything-“

Jollain raises her hand to stop him.  
“The charade isn’t necessary, Caius. Tayerise knows what this is about.”

That makes the spymaster stop and he stares at Jollain silently for several moments.  
“…excuse me?”

“She knows about us, that we’re Blades.”

It’s not like she had expected a sincere welcome from the human, as Maak was not particularly happy at first either.  
Caius furrows his brow and if they’re not mistaken, he does clench his hands somewhat.  
“How?”

“Because I told her.”

Further skepticism is provided for her, but his eyes soon move searchingly, as if he’s trying to examine the situation, how to interpret it. Eventually, he stands up.  
Tay doesn’t quite know what to make of this man when he’s in full view. From all that her girlfriend had told her of him, he did sound strange, but…not like this. Why does he have to be half-naked? Why would a spymaster have to act specifically in such a…demeaning role? Perhaps that’s just his choice, what he’s good at.

“I see”, Caius says with a little bit of curiosity in his voice. He briefly surveys Tay’s stance.  
“Well then, perhaps you can explain yourself, Jollain. What are you expecting out of this? I don’t suppose you did it merely to compromise our position.”

The bosmer shakes her head and plants her hands by her hips.  
“Well, ‘course not. I’m kinda enjoying making drakes this way, but you’re wrong – this won’t compromise us at all. Tay isn’t here to expose us or whatever – she wants to join us, to become a Blade. I gave her the offer and she agreed.”

“Interesting choice”, he tells her and then views her with a good amount of doubt in his eyes. “Especially since I don’t recall ever assigning you as a recruiter, agent.”

She clears her throat, trying to remain determined in the face of his sternness.  
“Well…yeah, maybe not, but I’ve been hanging out with Tay a lot. We work well together, and I trust her wholeheartedly. She’d be an asset to us, I know it.”

Caius sighs briefly and then shakes his head, shortly before he begins pacing slowly nearby his seat.  
“Somehow, I figured it might come to this. When I heard you two moved in together, I feared you might be exposed. Didn’t expect you to tell her all about it, though.”

“I figured it could be helpful. It’s not like we don’t need new agents, right?”

“Our positions are not completely full, no, but at the same time, I wonder how useful your friend here will actually be.  
It would have been quite a boon for us to have an agent inside of Camonna Tong”, he says and then faces Tay, “but if I’m not mistaken, you left that organization, correct?”

Tay hadn’t expected to be addressed at this time, which forces her to straighten herself and cough somewhat awkwardly.  
“Uh…well, yes, I did.”

“Thought as much. I have friends in the Fighters Guild, and while it is not entirely uninteresting to us, it’s not like we need someone specifically from it among us. Plus, due to our close ties with the Legion, agents in the Guild are pretty redundant.”  
He stops and looks directly at Tay.  
“I won’t reject you outright, since there seems to be a few individuals who really want you here, but I need to know what type of situation we’re getting into and why you are coming to me like this. I hope you aren’t entirely empty-handed.”

From right next to the dunmer, he can see how Jollain frowns somewhat and is already getting prepared to defend her friend.  
“Hey, aren’t you being a bit too dismissive right away? She may not be Camonna anymore, but the Fighters Guild gets around a lot across Vvardenfell as well.”

“Not in the right areas of society.”

“Don’t you mean the _same_ areas? They are still involved in a lot of places where we could use prying eyes.  
First of all, they get all sorts of different assignments from all types of people – merchants, individual Great House members, smaller organizations and various citizens across the isle. For this very reason, a member of the Fighters Guild can easily be dispatched and go anywhere at any time, whenever they’re required.  
Secondly, if we need another contact or messenger to the Legion, it wouldn’t be that strange to see a Fighters Guild merc walking back and forth, right? The Guild isn’t technically part of an official imperial army or anything, but they’re definitely more affiliated with the Empire than most Morrowind groups.”

During a brief pause, Caius lifts a hand to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully as he considers these angles.  
“I suppose you have a few good points here. It could certainly be advantageous to-“

Unfortunately, Jollain lifts a hand to interrupt him.  
“I’m not done yet.” Despite Caius being the one in charge, he allows her to speak freely for now.  
“Tay has already been at Moonmoth too, met with Asta when we wanted to get her brother out of there. If we need another contact to the Legate, she’s the perfect candidate.  
Thirdly, and one of the best parts – Tay is very good in a fight. She’s more talented than I’ve ever been, and she can handle all sorts of opponents. She could potentially match Maak too, which means she’d be very useful if you ever need us for a really tough mission of some kind. She may be big, but she’s very observant and fast as Kynareth’s wind.”

Maak looks a little bit skeptical when his name is mentioned in this manner, but he doesn’t say anything about it for now.  
Caius simply tilts his head back and forth for a bit, trying to consider her arguments.  
“Hmm. You’ve really thought this through, I see.”

“Of course I have. Think I wouldn’t come prepared? I know you well enough by now, old man.”

He actually seems mildly amused by that, even if not enough to laugh.  
“Well, I’m glad that you have finally realized what it means to be in our type of business, but that does not indicate I’m ready to accept your view of this issue immediately and without question.”  
His attention returns to the dunmer.  
“Tell me, Tayerise, how much has Jollain truly told you about what it is we do? Do you understand the depth and difficulty of being a member of the Blades?”

As the tallest person in this room, Tay has to look down pretty much every time she turns to anyone. She glances at Jollain, but sees that this is what she will have to deal with on her own.  
“Well, I…obviously can’t be entirely sure if the two of you have different perspectives or not, but I feel like I’ve been told most of it.  
You are agents of the Empire, an extension of the Emperor’s reach, correct? You have members across Tamriel, in every province, watching as many levels and aspects of these nations as you possibly can.”

His eyes have drifted up to the roof as he listens and contemplates her explanation.  
“Mm, that is an apt description, I would say, albeit somewhat simplified. In the details specifically surrounding Vvardenfell, our work has a lot more complications than you might think.”  
Caius decides to take a few steps closer, now staring directly into her red eyes.  
“However, this also means that you will have to ask yourself some crucial questions. Are you comfortable with this type of work, of entering a different kind of mindset?  
Some of your people see it as treachery to join the Imperial Legion or any imperial Guild. To become a Blade is deeper, the true loyalists of our society, bound to the Emperor. You will not even be fighting with the Empire’s sigil on your chest, but instead make everyone believe that you are one of them, while your true purpose is to watch them, relay everything you can about them to me. Are you sure that you are ready to accept such a role?”

In one way, she’s glad that he’s taking this seriously. Caius isn’t simply discarding her as being inadequate, but instead testing her, seeing if she is prepared to do everything that is necessary and delve into complexities of true infiltration.  
Tay takes a deep breath and ponders her response for several moments.  
“Well, I suppose that depends on your intentions.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are the Blades here? What is your goal in Morrowind and on Vvardenfell?  
Is your purpose to simply keep everyone in line, to make sure no one sabotages for the Empire or opposes its interests? Or are you here to make sure that chaos does not erupt through our land, to prevent war, death and devastation? To me, those are two very important differences.”

Caius had clearly not expected a counter question of this caliber, as Jollain simply embraced her assignments as the inevitability of her new life. It appears that, like Maak, Tay is more concerned with her people’s welfare and what she can do to help all of the Empire, not just Cyrodiil. It makes him curious.  
“I’ve never been one to keep vital secrets from my agents, so I will be frank with you.  
I can honestly say that there are traces of both angles behind our purpose and actions in this region. It would be hard to deny that the Emperor likely feels that he wants Morrowind to stay in line and remain loyal. Otherwise, we would not be watching all the political situations across this land so closely.  
However, on a personal level, I care about this nation and the dunmer people. I have lived here for decades, learned the intricacies of your culture, morals and beliefs. I believe your welfare, progress and stability is important and that is why I remain.”

He turns on his heel and begins to slowly stride the other way, once more pacing across the room. The others stay silent as he continues.  
“The Empire cannot exist without diversity, without every province that it consists of. Not all people are from Cyrodiil and we do not all share the same views or ideals. This is not a weakness, but a strength, what makes the Empire a better place.  
One result of our differences is sadly that it might occasionally turn to conflict, particularly when our views clash and it cannot easily be resolved with words. We of the Blades are here specifically to safeguard against such outcomes, to make sure that the stability of the Empire and our interests as an entire nation remains intact, so that we can survive together.”  
Caius eventually stops and faces all three of them, moving his arms behind his back.  
“I admit that this is a bit of an idealistic opinion and certainly not shared by every citizen, but it is one I keep close to my heart. I know the Emperor fairy well, Tayerise, having met him on several occasions in the past. Uriel knows my feelings regarding Morrowind and if he did not believe that my ideals or opinions could be beneficial, he would not have assigned me as the leader of this district. That should tell you enough of why we are here.”

It does apparently help to ease Tay’s mind, based on her stance loosening somewhat.  
“Alright, I suppose that is a reasonable answer. If you want to be honest, though, I believe I should show you the same courtesy.  
I am not completely sure if I trust the Emperor’s intentions, even if you do. I don’t believe I will ever be able to, not without question anyhow. That said, I have worked with Maak-Veh and Jollain before, spent time with them in private and seen what they’re capable of. They are good people and they do not disregard compassion and honor.  
For this reason, I would be willing to stand with your Order and do what is best for both Morrownd and the Empire as a whole. Your ideals of unity are...appealing to me as well.”

Instead of an immediate response from Caius, they hear Maak opening his mouth.  
“I believe you and I may have some similar views, then. The reason I have worked with the Blades for so long now is because I believe in the strength of one nation, but with many different races within. We can never improve the situation of our people, if we do not first remove the possibilities of conflict.  
That said, I also affiliate myself with the Blades specifically to improve the situation for my kind. That cannot be done if we don’t work with the Empire.”

When he’s done, Caius views him with interest as well.  
“Sounds to me like you think this is a good idea, Maak-Veh. You vouch for her?”

The weapon master inclines his head.  
“I do. Like she mentioned, we have worked together a few times now, even if she was not aware of our underlying reason.  
She performed very well in both combat and regarding our investigations. On top of this, Tayerise and Jollain are exceptionally merged in both mind and body, whether we are speaking of combat or other hostile and problematic situations, which surprised me when I first witnessed it.  
Personally, I think it is actually more of an advantage if she is not with Camonna, as I do not believe we have need of people in that foul organization. She is honorable and better than them.”

Caius doesn’t appear like he entirely agrees, but doesn’t voice this view.  
“Very well. It appears there may be a place for you among us after all, Tayerise, especially since you three apparently cooperate well.  
I wasn’t entirely certain I needed more agents in Balmora, but Jollain is right. Having someone we can dispatch wherever and whenever we require a fighter with your skills is quite an asset. This might be a good idea after all.  
I don’t have an updated situation regarding living spaces, but I can try to find one for you as soon as possible.”

“No need”, he hears Jollain saying. “She’s staying with me for the time being.”

Caius nods slowly.  
“I see. Well, we’ll have to wait and consider if this is preferable or not. I might be able to find you a home of your own at a later date.”  
He approaches Tay once more and reaches out with his hand.  
“For now, I welcome you to the Order of Blades, Tayerise. Be ready to perform the tasks I provide you with, to preserve the structure of the Empire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I guess it's pretty transparent, but I am setting this group up for the coming events in the next fic, with the majority of Morrowind's main story._


	30. Land of prospective stars

Time on Vvardenfell can often feel as if it goes by very slowly. This land has a very special meaning and purpose, not just for Morrowind, but the dunmer people as a whole, due to what transpired so very long ago. One can sometimes get the sensation that nothing ever changes here, even as new people arrive, lives end and the days flow at the same pace as anywhere else. Opinions, structures and philosophies can rarely be altered without a push. It is as if something ancient has its grasp over this island and will not let go without a fight.

However, some of its inhabitants refuse to sit still and will demand that the island begins to move, whether it wants to or not. Tayerise would like to count herself among them, which is why she has been trying her best to acclimatize to a different reality.  
A few weeks have passed since she became a member of the Blades and officially moved in with her new girlfriend, where they can hopefully create a life together. So far, neither of them has been willing to discuss the notions of going another path or finding separate homes. They are content this way and would be more than willing to remain.

It’s hard to say what exactly this will mean for the future. Will they actually be able to stay together for the rest of their days or is this just a fleeting dream? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. For now, this is all they could ever want.  
Both of them have gestured at the possibility of building something more, though. If they manage to save up enough drakes, they could potentially build a house outside the city. It’s not that they want a farm or anything, to survive outside of society, but it would at least be nice to have a larger place to call their own.

One thing that they decided to invest in, though, is getting Tay a more permanent way of transportation. The silt strider system is useful, but it is not always available, nor does it go to every section of the island.  
As Tay may be required to travel to more places than what Jollain and Maak-Veh do during their assignments, Jollain and Tay pooled their coins and purchased a trained guar.

At first, Jollain had suggested that they buy one from Tay’s family, as that would likely be cheaper. Tay informed her that this wouldn’t really work for her purposes, though, as she couldn’t get just any guar. She had to remind Jollain that the guar on her family’s farm are brought up for their capabilities to aid with the farm’s various activities, their hide and eventually, their meat. They are, after all, pretty much farm animals.

What Tay was after wasn’t just one trained to be ridden, but also tracking and potentially even as assistance in combat. A battle guar or war guar, or whatever she prefers to call it, is exactly what they decided to search for in one of the settlements to the south.  
As Tay finds herself in the outskirts of Balmora, this is the type of creature standing beside her at this time. His hide is black, his big reptilian eyes are yellow, and he has several large red stripes over his back.

Tay decided to name him Amnet, one of the more eager from his generation. He’s still fairly young, but also strong and has a very sharp nose. Useful in tracking and during fights, but he’s not perfect. In fact, Tay has noticed that he can be very playful.  
Currently, while Tay and Amnet are waiting for Jollain, as they want to go for a walk together, the little guar seems somewhat impatient. He can’t hold both of them on his back, but he can carry their bags, which is why he has such things strapped to him.

Tay has begun to understand her companion’s behavior and often knows what he needs. That’s why she rummages around in one of the bags, trying to find something for him to chew on. As she does, his focus is on her instead and his tail begins swaying back and forth. He moves his snout towards her arm and nibbles at it – not too hard, but just enough to get her attention. It doesn’t hurt her, but is adequate in showing what he wants.

She blinks and retracts her arm as she stares at him.  
“Hey, what are you doing?”  
He takes a step back as he looks up at her. His maw opens in an eager manner and his tail now whips around even faster in preparation.  
Tay smiles, folds her arms and shakes her head.  
“You want to play, huh? You little rascal.”

If Tay is being honest, she never believed that she’d become attached to a guar to this extent. It’s not like she didn’t like those at the farm, but she always viewed them as nothing more than animals, meant to aid her family and help maintain their livelihood. Amnet is much more fun to have around as a friend of sorts. This is why she tries to advance on him now, hoping to capture him, but he is quicker than he looks, leaping away from her grasp.

“Tsk, think you can get away from me, do you? I’ll get you.”

He emits some excited noises as he runs away, circling a rock to keep it as an obstacle between them, while she tries to lure him out. Unfortunately for him, she’s large enough to bypass such objects and eventually tries to jump over it. It takes her a few seconds to do so, however, and Amnet uses that time to run away again, hoping to get back to the wall of the city. He’s pretty swift on his legs, after all and smarter than one might expect.

Just as he does, another individual is exiting the city simultaneously, albeit somewhat absent-mindedly. Jollain walks towards them, knowing where they’re supposed to be and as soon as he spots her, Amnet emits another sound, one in recognition. As they have met several times, he knows who she is and is always glad to see her. She likes to give him snacks, for example.  
He unleashes a happy grunt, but Jollain isn’t quite paying attention. She seems to be deeply focused on some kind of paper in her hands and hardly even notices his approach.

Amnet comes rushing towards her and it’s not until the last second that she detects the speed and weight of his body. She dodges and just barely manages to avoid being tackled.  
“Oof! Hey, take it easy, big guy! You almost ran into me when I wasn’t looking.”

While Amnet seems oblivious of her potential annoyance and merely nudges his head affectionately against her, it does not slip past Tay. She can spot the tension all over her beloved.  
“Jollain, is something wrong?”

The bosmer sighs and despite some irritation, she still pats the guar’s head.  
“Yeah, I just received some news from Caius, regarding some pretty important stuff.”

“How important?”

“Well…do you know who Athyn Llethan is?”

Tay stops only a few meters from Jollain and Amnet, crossing her arms. Jollain is dressed in a loose light green shirt, a white skirt, a thick black sash and a beige scarf around her neck. In comparison, Tay wears a brown jacket, leather pants, and a grey shirt. She is equipped with some boots, while Jollain only uses some flat shoes. Both of them definitely look pretty casual, though, not as if they’re going off on anything important.

Tay raises a hand to scratch her check thoughtfully.  
“Uh…the King of Morrowind, you mean?”

“Seems like it, yeah. Never heard of him before.”

“I know the name and that he lives in Mournhold – our capital – but not much else. Well, he belongs to House Hlaalu, I know that too. Never actually seen him personally, as I don’t think he has ever been to Vvardenfell during my lifetime.”

“He’s your leader, I guess? Or ours, seeing as how I’m a citizen now.”

Tay considers the idea and tilts her head back and forth.  
“Mm, sort of. I mean, he doesn’t really have the same power as the Tribunal, but he has the highest administrative and legislative position. By some, he’s merely seen as a puppet of the Empire, though, and technically, he was appointed by them, I think.”

It makes Jollain snort and briefly shake her head.  
“Not anymore. He’s dead.”

This gives Tay pause, her mouth hanging agape for a couple of seconds before she can say anything.  
“D…dead? But…  
What? How?”

Jollain lifts the note in her hand, waving it around a bit.  
“According to the official information, it says he died of natural causes. No idea how much bullshit that is, though.”

“Did Caius say anything?”

“He did. He believes that the reports are…dubious. Seems there are a bunch of rumors that the new King – Helseth – may have poisoned him. No one has seen any proof of this, but Caius doesn’t think it’s entirely impossible.”

Tay lingers in a few more moments of silence, running her hand over her cheeks, as she appears rather taken by this piece of news.  
“I…never suspected that anything so drastic would occur. You hear about deaths every now and then, but nothing substantial. Nothing…like this. It sounds quite serious and a little bit scary, if I’m honest.”

Jollain sighs and looks down at the guar next to her, trying to find comfort in his happy appearance.  
“Don’t have to convince me, because I agree. Worst thing is, there’s more.  
The death of the old King isn’t the only problem that the Empire is facing – apparently, there’s a lot of unrest in the Imperial City.”

“What kind of unrest? Conflict?”

“Sort of. First of all, there have been some rumors regarding the Emperor and his sons, that they may not be his real heirs or whatever. This is mixed with talks about someone conspiring against Uriel. Dunno who yet.  
On top of this, certain sections of the Nine Divines church have begun criticizing some of the Emperor’s actions, calling them ‘impious’ and on the verge of heresy. He apparently doesn’t act ‘with the will of the Divines’, whatever that means. There was a big mob of zealous believers who were arrested in the capital just a few weeks ago, when they attempted to get into the White-Gold Tower.”

Tay listens quietly as all of this is told to her and she feels anxiety building inside of her chest.  
“Ancestors…what’s going on over there? Sounds like chaos is erupting all over the place.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I could hardly even believe it when Caius gave me the news. That’s not the full extent of it, though.  
Caius also told me about a faction that has only been heard of in the last few months, but may have existed longer than that. They call themselves the ‘Tenth Dusk’, and they’re apparently some kind of rebel group which has begun to oppose imperial edicts and actions. They’re calling for change, that the Empire needs to evolve or dismantle.  
They’ve had success in a few regions of Hammerfell, Black Marsh and Valenwood. According to Blades agents elsewhere, they may even have landed somewhere in Morrowind.”

“Evolve? Do they mean anything specific with that?”

“The basics are demands for increased equality, less regulation and decreased Legion presence across every province, but Caius told me that some are even calling for the dismantling of the system of nobility in several nations.  
Caius thinks that we need to keep an eye open, as we can’t know what will happen here. He might have to dispatch us to deal with them at some point.”

This is a lot to take in at the same time and most of it only aids with making Tay feel very concerned and a little bit helpless. Amnet is finally becoming aware of their tension and anxiety and he glances between them. His eyes turn somewhat sad and he lets out a worried grunt.  
Tay looks down at him, sighs and kneels at his side. She scratches the scales behind his head, letting him nudge against her.

“It sounds like we’re going to have a lot to do”, she remarks.

Jollain sighs and folds her arms, her eyes being somewhat distant.  
“Pretty much, yeah. And just as I figured we might be able to have a few calm months. Never underestimate fate’s ability to kick you in the ass, I guess.”

It’s not really said with any humor and Tay doesn’t laugh either.  
“Should we maybe…I dunno, cancel this walk?”

Jollain blinks and shifts her gaze towards Tay.  
“What do you mean?”

“Well, I had hoped we could go and have some fun together with Amnet today, but if we have work to prepare for, maybe that will just get in the way.”

It’s very much like Tay to start worrying as soon as something bad occurs and Jollain loves her for that compassion. Fortunately, she doesn’t intend to go anywhere else today.  
She smiles and snorts amusedly.  
“You misunderstand, cutie. It’s exactly in times like these that we need some distractions.”  
She approaches Amnet and scratches under his chin, which makes him close his eyes and practically purr in approval. After that, she places her free hand on Tay’s cheek.  
“This will be on my mind for a while, but right now, all I want is you. And our scaly little brat, of course.”

Amnet seems to be happy again and he circles them, rubbing his body against them as he does. Tay’s smile returns as well, and she rises to her feet. After wrapping her arms around the bosmer, she pulls them together in a gentle and loving kiss, one that Jollain eagerly leans into. Once it’s over, she nudges her forehead into Jollain’s.  
“Sorry. Guess I’m still unused to...well, this life.”

Jollain has closed her eyes and slips her own arms around Tay’s waist.  
“It’s okay, cutie. That’s why you and I are partners.”

“Heh. True enough.”

Eventually, Jollain tilts her head back somewhat and looks into Tay’s eyes. Their crimson appearance has become so pleasant to view that the sight imbues her with a comforting aura.  
“So, what’s your plans for today?”

“Well, I figured we could wander around the hills to the north, perhaps take a trip over the river at some point. Amnet likes to climb in this landscape and watch other animals pass by. Maybe we could find one with a good view over the city and have a bite later.”

Jollain arches her brow curiously.  
“Ooh, a picnic, huh? Sounds good to me. And kinda convenient too.”

She reveals a bag that she brought with her and opens it up. Within, there’s a bottle, some dried fruits and cheese. Tay views the jug with a particular amount of interest.  
“Is that…sujamma?”

“Mhm.”

Tay can’t really hide the smile, even if she feels a little bit hesitant.  
“I’m…not sure getting drunk out here is such a good idea.”

“Hey, who said we’d have to drink that much? We’ll just get enough to have some fun. Can probably cover the kid’s eyes or distract him somehow, so he won’t have to watch.”

It’s unclear whether she’s joking or not, but either way, Tay laughs briefly and then caresses Jollain’s cheek.  
“Have I ever mentioned how lucky I am to have found you?”

Jollain pushes herself even closer, stroking her hands up over Tay’s chest. Her voice goes quieter and somewhat more suggestive.  
“Yeah, a lot, but I never get enough of flattery. Can say it whenever you want, gorgeous.”

“Pretty sure you are the one with the beauty.”

“Then you haven’t looked in a mirror.”

They embrace each other once more, distracting themselves from their surroundings. In spite of the potential doubts for the future, life does finally seem to be looking up for both of them.  


* * *

  
In another section of the West Gash, specifically inside of Balmora, the South Wall cornerclub opens up and receives its customers. Both regulars, travelers and newcomers arrive and leave, as life seems to practically continue as normal.  
However, in one particular corner sits a person that is seldom seen in this establishment and he only ever visits for a specific reason.

Caius is sitting on his own, slowly sipping on a mug of mazte as he pretends to be in a slumped and half-drunken state, possibly full of Skooma.  
For those who know his true identity, they would realize that he’s actually here for a completely different reason. He’s waiting for a contact, one that he usually meets here every now and then, in order to receive special messages. This meeting spot and time is set up on a regular basis, but the contact doesn’t always come, as there’s not always something to say. Today, Caius somehow suspects he will.

His assumptions prove to be correct when the courier walks inside – a redguard in a long grey cloak and hood, with clothes underneath made for travelling. He orders in some ale for himself and then gets seated next to Caius.  
For ten minutes or so, the two converses about various topic, but nothing important. It's stuff Caius already knows and something that only seems to be mentioned specifically to make it seem organic. Is he trying to waste Caius’ time or what’s going on?

It’s after this time is up that Caius notes how the redguard gives him an intense look, downs his own drink and when no one else notices, drops something in the mug. He shakes Caius’ hand before he leaves, in a way that makes it seem like they’re old friends.  
Once he has departed, Caius sees a small cylinder-shaped container inside the mug, something which likely protects some kind of note within. After gathering up both mugs, he manages to nimbly grab the container and slip it into the sleeve of his shirt.

A couple of minutes later, he stumbles out from the bar, pretending to appear like he’s in a drunken stupor, in order to discourage anyone from approaching him. Most people aren’t interested in this old man anyhow and his act succeeds. He continues like this until he has wandered out of view from other people. The charade ends when he goes past a particular corner and slips into an alleyway.  
While alone in the shadows, he opens the small container and finds a rather intriguing text within. It is a message from none other than Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself.

It reads:  
_“Caius, my most trusted agent, I hope you are doing well. There is much happening in the capital as I write this, some which is too complicated to relay in a single message. Eventually, I may call upon your services at my side once more, but now is not the time. If you hear rumors, disregard them until you know that the success of the mission I am bestowing you with now is absolute._  
_The purpose of this missive is important, perhaps the most vital one I have ever sent you. You must pay attention and then burn this letter as soon as you have read it. Memorize it well._

_It is time I tell you the truth of Jollain’s arrival in Morrowind.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, I gave Tayerise a guar combat pet. What is that class called in TESO? Warden or whatever? I haven't played that expansion yet. I just really wanted more presence of guar. I love guar, okay?_   
>  _Anyway, Amnet will be seen more in the next fic, I think, as a secondary character._
> 
> _Thanks for the kudos and stuff to this story. I appreciate the support and I hope you've enjoyed reading this fic._   
> 


End file.
